


Within You

by originella



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry Potter, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, Angst and Feels, Bottom Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley Bashing, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Evil Lucius Malfoy, F/F, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapped Harry, Kidnapping, Lucius Malfoy Bashing, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, Top Severus Snape, Trauma, Vernon Dursley bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-10-13 02:29:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 102,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20574959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originella/pseuds/originella
Summary: When Scotland Yard's newest Chief Inspector, Nymphadora Tonks, takes on the case of sixteen-year-old Harry Potter, she is shocked to discover that his relatives have been horribly abusive. Harry, who is now in his sixth year at Wartsmoth Academy for Gifted Students, wants nothing more than a sense of normalcy and, now in the custody of Remus Lupin, believes that it is entirely possible. However, Harry cannot shake the nagging feeling that his sciences professor, Severus Snape, is harboring secrets against him, and he will strive to figure out why.





	1. Fight or Flight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Salimiss7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salimiss7/gifts), [Ju1y](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ju1y/gifts).

Harry stood in the living room at Number Four, Privet Drive, in a small corner of suburbia in Surrey, in the borough of Waverley, and in the town of Godalming. All the houses around this one looked the same; each boasted a car garage, a small garden in the back, and, inside, a lounge, a kitchen, cupboard under the stairs, three bedrooms upstairs, the master boasting an en suite, and a standard bathroom along the hallway for the two other bedrooms. Harry himself had slept in the cupboard until the occasion of his eleventh birthday, when his deceased parents’ will had come to light, letting him and everyone else know that he was to attend Wartsmoth Academy for Gifted Students in Scotland. Upon realizing that rather important tidbit of information, and his aunt and uncle convinced that people would begin knocking at their door at all-hours, checking up on Harry when he was still at home, they moved him upstairs to the smallest bedroom the house had to offer, something which his cousin, Dudley, at five weeks older than Harry, much disputed, as the location had been used to stash his multitude of toys and games he’d collected—and broken, when they either lost interest to him or he’d merely grown frustrated that he’d been unable to understand them—over the years.

“Harry? Are you all right?”

Harry turned to face the kind face of the woman who had spoken to him; her name was Dora; at least, she’d told him to call her that, as she felt the title of ‘Chief Inspector’ to be a bit too much, considering that they were only a few years apart. He gave her a tight smile and a nod in answer to her question; of course, he wasn’t all right, far from it.

“Look,” she went on, her voice gentle, “we don’t have to talk about what happened, not now, at the very least. My main task was to get you out of here tonight. We’re going to stay in a hotel for the evening, and then get some breakfast in the morning. Then, I’ve got to take you on a train.”

Harry felt his brows going together. A train? He took a train to school, but school itself wasn’t due to begin until the first of September, and they were only into the second week of August at that time. Surely, he couldn’t be expected to go to school that early...

Dora softened her expression, clearly catching on to her young charges’ confusion. “Don’t worry, Harry—I won’t be taking you to back to school. Someone close to you has finally won their suit for custody, and you’ll be living with them from now on.”

Harry blinked, obviously shocked that someone had wanted him in the first place, after having it drilled into his head, time and time again, over the years that he was very much unwanted. “Who has agreed to take me?” he asked, his tone a whisper.

“Your godfather, Remus Lupin,” Dora explained patiently to him, and lowered her eyes to the worn trunk that Harry stood next to, in the drab-looking living room.

Harry sighed, remembering the kind face of the physical education professor at his school, who had begun working at the school three years previously, when he was thirteen. Harry was shocked that such a kind man was best friends with his father, and had initially been given custody of him, but, because of financial difficulties, he was handed over to his mother’s sister, her husband, and their son, who had systematically tormented and abused Harry from babyhood until the final straw had broken just one evening previously. Now, it seemed, with the steady income provided by Harry’s school, that Remus Lupin was finally in a position to hire a solicitor, who, in turn, had managed to match up proper evidence, and accuse Vernon and Petunia Dursley of unspeakable abuse, thus gaining his suit for custody.

“Do you like him? Remus,” Dora asked Harry.

Harry nodded at her. “Yeah. He’s great. I... I mean, I’ve got my friends at school, of course, but I always had to come back here during Christmas and the summer, because of what the courts said. I hated...” He cut himself off then, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to control his unbridled emotions, not now.

Dora nodded; she’d seen as much in the report as to the lengths that the Dursleys had gone in order to discipline young Harry, although Dora believed that the line had been crossed one too many times, clearly. “Like I said, we don’t have to discuss it now, if you don’t want to,” Dora told him, knowing that she would have to treat the entire situation delicately; it was her first solo case as a Chief Inspector for Scotland Yard, and she would not mess it up.

Harry nodded back at her. “Thanks,” he said.

Dora smiled. “Well, then, have you got everything?” she asked, and nodded in the direction of his trunk.

“Yeah, I’ve got everything,” Harry replied.

“Great,” Dora said, and motioned for Harry to follow her. She watched over her shoulder as Harry effortlessly lifted his trunk to drag it behind him, and they stepped through the front door, and Dora took Harry’s key and locked it behind her, throwing it beneath the welcome mat as they took off through the darkening front yard. She made her way towards the street, fumbling ever so slightly with her borrowed set of keys, but managed to pop her boot open of her rental car for Harry to place his trunk inside, and then went to the drivers’ side, motioning that Harry could ride up front with her, and Harry was clearly pleased with that small thing, which seemed to be a worthwhile treat in his eyes.

They drove along the roads of Surrey in silence, as the sky continued to darken around them, and Dora drove in the direction of Kings Cross Station, about an hour away. Dora’s superiors had booked them accommodation at the King’s Cross Hotel, located just near the station, for the evening, but Dora was expected to make sure that they got a decent breakfast the following morning. Her parents, thankfully, had chipped in for the train fare, and made sure that there was a lunch service available for the both of them.

Once they arrived at the hotel, Dora briefly explained that it would look better if he simply pretended to be her younger brother, and Harry nodded, seeing why an alternative would involve badges flashing and too much attention, both things he hated. Once they were given directions to their bedroom, Dora hauled her duffel effortlessly in the general direction, with Harry quickly following her. The room boasted two twin beds, a carpet that had clearly seen better days, a television set from the 1980’s with massive antennas, a window with curtains that were likely filled with decades of dust, a radiator, a closet beside the door to the room, and a bathroom just opposite the closet, featuring a standing shower, loo, and sink.

“You can change for bed in the bathroom or in here,” Dora informed Harry with a quick and easy smile. “I’ll just change in the area you don’t pick. And feel free to take a shower, if you want to.”

Harry nodded, digging through his trunk for a moment until he found sleep pants and a too-large T-shirt, along with a pair of boxers, and slipped into the bathroom. The white tile seemed to have a bit of dark grime in between each section, but Harry brushed off his need to clean it and set his change of clothes onto the basin. Following that, he used the loo and dragged a hand through his hair upon completing the task and washing his hands, before he turned and looked at the shower, before he dragged off his jeans, T-shirt, boxers, and glasses, and adjusted the temperature to one that he liked.

The fan turned on automatically in this bathroom, so Harry had no need to cross to the other end before getting into the shower. The blasting stream of water was calming to him, and he found that he couldn’t rightly remember the last time he had been afforded such a luxury. His aunt and uncle certainly hadn’t allowed him one often; on Sundays, if he behaved throughout the week and got all his chores done, or if he didn’t have too many beatings to his name that week. He bit and worried his lower lip, before he allowed his wild mane of black hair to go underneath the jet of streaming water, and remembered the beatings—his uncle’s meaty hands on his skin, doing god knows what to him—and the pain, always the pain...

Once he had washed his hair and body, Harry slipped from the shower and briefly wrapped a white towel around him, which hung off his body like some sort of sorry toga. He brushed the thought from his mind as he crossed back to the basin, drying himself off quickly before he put on a fresh change of clothes. He automatically pushed the steam off the mirror which had gathered there during his shower, and felt a lump rising in his throat at the purple bruises and dark burn marks, black shadows underneath his eyes, and various red bite marks littering his too-pale skin. He shuddered at the sight, his green eyes staring back at him in a moment of pain, before he pushed himself back from the mirror.

Walking out of the bathroom, his dirty clothes gripped in his hand, he spotted Dora in her bed, a short-sleeved shirt for Manchester United on her frame, with what appeared to be matching sleep pants. She gave him a kind smile, but could tell from his body language that he still wasn’t ready to talk, so she returned to _Snow Falling on Cedars_ by David Guterson, illuminated by the small lamp placed on the rickety-looking table in between the single beds.

Harry stuffed his day-old clothes into the bottom of his trunk, before lifting the thing and placing it into the swatch of space between his bed and the wall. He climbed into the bed and faced away from Dora, staring at the wallpaper which appeared to be covered in an emblem of some kind, and Harry thought it looked to be a Coat of Arms. He swallowed and took off his glasses, placing them onto the top of his trunk, so that they would be easily accessible, come morning. The clock’s red numbers, placed beside the lamp upon the rickety table, had declared it to be close to ten. It was early, for Harry, at least, but, given the events of the day, Harry welcomed the feeling of his green eyes growing heavy, and allowed the silence to overtake his senses as he settled into sleep.

. . .

Harry and Dora were awake promptly the following morning, in order to catch their nine o’clock train from Kings Cross. They ate at a little café down the street, in between the hotel and the station, with Harry picking at his scrambled eggs on toast and Dora enthusiastically eating a full English breakfast. Dora was pleased that Harry had eaten half his breakfast before the bill was paid and they were on their feet again, dragging their luggage behind them and making their way towards Platform Nine.

They handed in their tickets and were soon ushered onto the train, before finding their compartment, in which Dora had pulled rank and managed to get them away from prying eyes of the public. Dora pulled the door closed and the curtain down, hoping beyond hope that, by giving Harry some space between last night and now, that he would, at last, be giving her some material for her report. She watched as Harry lifted his trunk and placed it into the bin above his selected seat, and Dora kept her duffel beside her, tempted to take out her notepad, but not wanting to frighten the sixteen-year-old in front of her.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you be all right with potentially talking to me for a bit now?” she asked softly, and noted quickly that Harry’s green eyes flashed with concern. “Harry, I don’t want to beg you here, but I need you to understand that it’s my job to take a report from you, as well as get you to Remus. Now, how about this. If you’re uncomfortable at any time with my questioning, we can stop for the moment. Does that work for you?”

Harry sighed, obviously relieved that there would be a clear moment to stop if he was uncomfortable with the situation. “It works,” he replied.

Dora nodded, taking out her notepad and pen and leaning back against the comfortable bench seat afforded to them in their compartment. “Very well, then,” she said, clicking her pen open and pressing the head onto her pad of paper. “Do you remember when your abuse at the hands of your aunt and uncle began?”

Harry swallowed, his hands forming fists on top of his jeans. “I suppose giving a child chores that are inappropriate for their age group counts as abuse?”

Dora nodded again. “Yes, of course.”

“Then, I was two,” Harry went on, his voice stiff. “My aunt made me begin cooking and cleaning as soon as I could hold a spoon or a mop.”

“What would a typical day in the household, for you, consist of?”

“I had to be up at five—Uncle Vernon would unlock my bedroom door—and I was permitted to use the bathroom,” he said quietly. “I would get three minutes exactly. If I wasn’t done, then I was ordered to stop what I was doing and wash my hands, and get out of there. Then, I had to go downstairs and fetch the newspaper, and have it waiting on the kitchen table. I would then have to make coffee for my uncle, tea for my aunt, and pour the orange juice for my cousin. Then I would wait for them to let me know what they wanted for breakfast—well, my aunt and cousin, at the very least. Uncle Vernon always wanted the same thing.”

“And what was that?”

“A fry-up, usually,” Harry replied with a shrug. “Fried eggs, fried sausages, fried bacon, fried tomatoes, and baked beans,” he said, and could physically feel his stomach crawling at the smell of grease, which constantly seemed to linger on his skin by association. “He would take the tomatoes and...” He broke off.

“You’re safe, Harry,” Dora told him gently, and Harry suddenly seemed aware that he was no longer in the kitchen at Privet Drive, but on a train, bound for Scotland. “You can do this. I know you can do this,” Dora was telling him.

Harry rolled up the sleeves of his oversized polo shirt, and grimaced as Dora looked horrified at the circular burn marks on his arms, which littered pretty much every surface of his skin, some old, some new. “Uncle Vernon never did like tomatoes,” he whispered, his voice practically trembling with the memory.

“Why did he insist on you making them?” Dora asked, her emotions getting the better of her as she forced herself to write down the report.

“To hurt me,” Harry said softly, running his hands over the burn marks, and he found he could still hear the sizzling sound as the cooked tomato made contact with his exposed flesh. “That’s all he ever wanted to do, it seems. Hurt me...”

“And...the rest of the day?” Dora asked, her tone hesitant.

“Aunt Petunia liked poached eggs,” Harry said, his tone still quiet as he traced the tomato-shaped burn marks on his arms. “Dudley always wanted pancakes with blueberries in them or strawberries and whipped cream on top...”

“And after breakfast?”

Harry slowly rolled down his sleeves. “Uncle Vernon went to work.”

“Which meant that your aunt would instruct you in chores?”

Harry nodded. “After I washed the breakfast dishes, of course,” he said, rolling his shoulders as he thought his daily schedule over. “Then I had to wash the bathrooms, vacuum the carpets, mop the floors, and dust the furniture. After that, it was usually time for lunch, and Aunt Petunia liked soup and sandwiches, and Dudley usually ate the same...”

“And after lunch?”

“I’d wash the dishes again,” Harry said easily. “And then Aunt Petunia would go out and do the shopping, and Dudley would run back outside and play with his friends. Their favorite game, after Harry Hunting, was beating up ten-year-olds...”

“And what would you do after you washed the dishes?”

“I would go outside and do the gardening tasks,” Harry said softly. “I’d be instructed to mow the lawn once a week—usually on Sunday, as there was nothing good on telly, according to Uncle Vernon, and there was no post on Sunday, so he could easily watch me and berate me if I ever did something wrong.”

“What other gardening tasks did you have to do?”

“Prune the rose bushes, scrub the birdbath and make sure it was full, fill up the bird house, make sure that there weren’t any dead branches on the trees... I would also have to water the garden, and this was a daily task. They had a mangled hose that Dudley would always manage to tie up in knots between days, and I would have to heave the thing from one end of the yard to the other, constantly wondering if Aunt Petunia would come back from the shopping early and, if she did and I wasn’t finished, she would search the kitchen for something to hit me with.”

“And after the gardening?” Dora asked him.

“I’d be locked in my room until dinnertime,” Harry said quietly. “Or, rather, when it was time for me to prepare dinner.”

“What would you do in your room?”

“Read, mostly,” Harry replied with a shrug. “Or, if I had any assignments from school, that was when I usually did them. I wasn’t permitted to watch the telly, and I was only allowed a hard-boiled egg and a slice of toast for my lunch...”

“And breakfast?”

Harry sighed. “Glass of water, if I was lucky. And anything Uncle Vernon didn’t eat. Aunt Petunia didn’t like baked beans cluttering everything, and the meal wasn’t sweet enough for Dudley, it seemed.”

Dora dragged her hand down her lips, absolutely appalled at the conditions that Harry had found himself forced to live in. The Dursley residence was as bland as it came, but she had seen the conditions of Vernon and Petunia, and that oafish son of theirs, and they were living in the lap of luxury in comparison to young Harry. Harry, whom Petunia had been entrusted to via the court system after her sister and brother-in-law had been killed by mass murderer Tom Riddle, who had been sentenced to life in prison in the aftermath, although many of his followers were still at large, and he’d been successfully dubbed the British Charles Manson by _The Times_, _The Daily Telegraph_, _The Sun_, and numerous other newspapers, was malnourished, abused, neglected, and likely suffering from depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder, among other things.

Dora folded up her notes and put them back into her duffel, and stared across the compartment at her young charge, who was now staring outside the window, as the train had begun moving and had now left the station. “Do you know why I asked for this assignment, Harry?” she asked him, her voice soft.

Harry shook his head, but still didn’t turn to look at her. “No.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have my own agenda,” she said softly, and watched as Harry’s mouth transformed into a thin line; he was used to that, she figured. “But, you should know from me that you and I have a connection.”

Harry’s brow furrowed, but he continued to stare out the window. “Are we related?”

“Not that I’m aware of, no,” Dora replied. “My aunt murdered my cousin, just before this past summer. My aunt was one of Riddle’s most notorious followers.”

Harry found himself gripping at his jeans again, and found that the nails biting at the palms of his hands—callused from his constant hard work, and burned by some faulty cooking over the years, among other signs of abuse—was a slight comfort to him, as it was a familiar sensation. “You’re talking about Bellatrix Lestrange, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice like lead.

Dora sighed, but nodded, nevertheless. “Yes. My mother was disowned from her family after she married my father, because he wasn’t rich, and had a typical, working-class lifestyle. My aunts and grandparents didn’t approve, and so she was cut off from the family. My cousin, Sirius, however, whom I know you were close to...”

“My other godfather,” Harry put in.

“That’s right,” Dora said. “Well, he and I stayed close, despite the family drama. But my aunts, Bellatrix and Narcissa, well, they never gave up Riddle’s dark ways. Because Bellatrix killed my cousin, however, she has a cell in prison for the rest of her life.”

“Narcissa?” Harry asked, the familiarity of the name catching his attention as he turned back to look at Dora. “You mean, Draco’s mum?”

Dora raised her eyebrows. “You know my other cousin, then?”

Harry swallowed, but finally nodded. “Yeah. He and I... We’ve never been close. In fact, he can be a downright bully, if you ask me.”

“Privileged upbringings can do that to people,” Dora said softly. “Draco’s been given everything a boy could want, although I’m not sure a full-indoctrination on Riddle’s crime-hungry and murderous ways are a good part of an upbringing...”

“I know his dad supports him...”

“Lucius,” Dora replied with a sneer. “My mum never liked him. He turned down his nose at my faction of the family every chance he got. Said that my mum couldn’t measure up to a halfway-decent marriage to a respectable gentleman.”

“But weren’t there rumors that your aunt tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom?” Harry wanted to know. “They... They’re my friend Neville’s parents,” he explained, and Dora nodded, now understanding the connection. “I thought they found her fingerprints all over the scene, and that’s what got Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom sent to Broadmoor...”

Dora swallowed. “Well, Bellatrix was able to make out that she had been coerced into participating in said torture,” she explained with a shudder. “She was thirty at the time, so she could hardly blame her age. However, she was able to turn herself into a witness for the prosecution and, in doing so, turned state evidence against her own husband, brother-in-law, and another follower of Riddle’s, Bartemius Crouch, Jr.”

“Crouch,” Harry whispered, recognizing that name as well. “He was one of your superiors at Scotland Yard, isn’t he?”

“Until his son murdered him on Riddle’s orders, yes,” Dora replied.

“How did he manage to pull off patricide?” Harry asked, and Dora raised her eyebrows that a sixteen-year-old was familiar with the term. “Like I said, I enjoy reading,” the teen told her with a shrug of his slight shoulders. “True crime has always been a favorite of mine.”

Dora sighed with a slight nod. “Well, Crouch Jr. was let out of prison for a parole period after the torturing of Frank and Alice Longbottom, as he was only nineteen during the time that the crime had taken place. He, too, turned evidence against Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange and, given that he had served nearly fourteen years, they believed a parole period to be appropriate. How wrong they were...”

“I found his body, you know. Crouch Sr.’s,” Harry said, and Dora’s mouth fell open at the revelation that the teenager had given her. “He was close friends with Headmaster Dumbledore, and I was helping our groundskeeper, Hagrid, with some work in the forest around the school grounds with my friends, Ron and Hermione. I... I wandered away from the group and came upon the body...” He shuddered.

Dora shook her head. “That can’t have been easy for you...”

Harry lifted his green eyes to Dora’s, and she was surprised to see just how old he looked behind his glasses. “My entire life hasn’t been easy, Dora,” he replied.

. . . 

Harry and Dora arrived at the station in Edinburgh in the middle of the afternoon. Harry lifted his trunk carefully from its place above his seat, and followed Dora, still carrying her duffel, down the hallway of the train and towards the main exit. They hopped out and onto the platform, and Harry walked through the crowds with Dora; it didn’t take long for him to pick out Remus through the crowd, and Harry even shocked himself as he rushed forward, and threw himself into his godfather’s arms.

“Harry! Are you all right?” Remus asked, holding the teenager close for a moment before he pulled him back, looking him over. Remus had taught Harry physical education at the age of thirteen but, once he had gotten wind of the abuse he was suffering at the hands of his relatives, had taken the following two years off, while gathering a defense with the support of the headmaster and a select few other professors, in order to gain custody of Harry and, now that that was accomplished, he would return to his post the following month.

“Yeah, I’ll be all right,” Harry said, feeling comforted at the feeling of Remus wrapping his arm protectively around him. “This is Dora, from Scotland Yard,” he said by means of introduction, and Dora stepped forward.

“How do you do, Remus?” she said, and put out her hand.

Remus was startled at her young age, but was quickly captivated by her beauty. He cleared his throat as he put out his hand towards hers and shook it. “Very well, thank you, Dora. Thank you for bringing Harry safely to me.”

Dora nodded at him. “No problem,” she said, finding herself warming considerably at the notion of Remus’s eyes wandering over her. “Well, I’m due back at headquarters before end of day. I assume that you’re all right?”

“Fine,” Harry said with a nod.

“We’ll be all right,” Remus told her.

Dora smiled at them both. “Glad to hear it. I’ll check in with the provided address you gave me a week from now, giving the two of you time to settle in. We’ll see about more of my report, eh, Harry?” she asked.

Harry nodded, relieved that he had some time. “That’s fine, Dora.”

“Good,” she said, before she lifted her hand.

“Nice meeting you,” Remus said quickly.

“You, too,” she called over her shoulder as she walked outside.

“Come on, then,” Remus said, keeping his arm slung around Harry’s shoulder and making a grab for his trunk himself, as he went outside. He walked in the general direction of the closest car park, where his own car was, and Harry stayed beneath his arm, only moving when Remus gestured for him to get into the car, a red 1990 Volkswagen Golf GTI.

Harry got into the passenger side as Remus put his trunk into the boot, and made his way around the vehicle and got into the driver’s seat. “I hope I haven’t caused you too much trouble.”

Remus shook his head as he stuck his key into the ignition and adjusted his mirror. “‘Course you haven’t,” he assured his godson as he shifted the car into reverse and stepped on the gas. “I wouldn’t have gone through all of this if I didn’t want some trouble.”

Harry leaned back against the seat as Remus navigated the car carefully out of the car park and down the street, leaving the grounds of the station. “Just... Sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Remus assured him as they came to a stop in front of a light, and reached over to gently squeeze his shoulder. “If I’d have had my way, the courts would have given you to me straightaway.”

“After Riddle offed my parents?” Harry asked darkly.

Remus sighed, pulling his hand away from Harry as the light turned green. He stepped on the gas again and pulled through the intersection, matching the speed within the line of traffic. “That was a horrible night for all of us. And, if Sirius didn’t have that false conviction to his name, you would have gone to him. My financial troubles aside, it would have been much better for you to have been raised by either him or me.”

“I know that.” Harry raised his eyes to watch the buildings around them through the windshield and considered his new life for a moment. “So, what’s going to happen?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, where do you live, for starters?”

“Our house is in Culross,” Remus explained with a smile; clearly, he was proud of it. “It’s a three-bedroom detached villa. Albus helped me in securing it for, as you know, I was living in a flat for some time. He, however, didn’t think a flat was very appropriate.”

Harry’s brows knitted together. “You didn’t rob the national bank, did you?”

Remus shook his head. “No, of course not. I simply had my solicitor, with Albus’s help, get me reinstated into my grandparents’ will. I got the fortune that had been promised to me when I was twenty-one, so I had more than enough to get the property.”

Harry sighed, relieved that Remus had managed to provide him with somewhere to live, all within the proper channels. He was tired of losing people he cared about, and, by the same token, having people around him who seemed to care less. “That’s good to know,” he said at last as Remus continued driving. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to a villa.”

Remus smiled at the look of wonderment in Harry’s expression. “Molly and Arthur have arranged for Ron to come down in the next couple of days, and Hermes and Jean are doing the same for Hermione.”

Harry blinked, turning to look at Remus again. “You mean, they can come over?”

Remus nodded. “Of course, Harry. It’s your house, too, after all. You’ll also have access to the phone; in fact, they both want you to call as soon as we get there.”

Harry blinked so as to prevent the tears from coming. “Thank you.”

“It’s proper household etiquette, Harry, to provide its residents means to contact the outside world,” Remus said gently. “I’ve also taken the liberty of providing you with stationary, and the house is filled with all of your favorite foods.”

Harry shook his head. “Remus, you didn’t have to...”

“I am only doing what Vernon and Petunia should have done from the moment that the courts handed you over to them—providing you with basic necessities and showing you the love that you were always meant to have.”

Harry sighed. “This is all too much...”

“All of this is quite basic, Harry,” Remus replied gently. “Tomorrow, if you’re feeling up to it, we’ll drive into town. They’ve got a movie theater there, plus clothing stores and the like, and plenty of restaurants for dining-in and takeaway. You’ll have to tell me what your favorite takeaway places are, and we can get food there whenever you like. Plus, we’ll have to do something about your wardrobe,” he continued, shaking his head. “I cannot believe what Vernon and Petunia made you wear, but it stops now.”

“I like flannel over wool,” Harry said softly, knowing that he should just go with it. “Also, I like Italian food for dining-in, and Chinese for takeaway. And you know by now that my favorite snacks are treacle tarts.”

“Well, I can work with all that, Harry, because I like all those things, too. Don’t worry,” Remus assured him, and pulled to a stop in front of another light, and waited until Harry’s eyes turned back to him before he started to speak again. “I won’t pressure you to talk, but I do think that, perhaps, you should seek some outside help, but only when you’re comfortable with it. I think it could help. When I was attacked,” he said, turning his gaze back to the road ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel before him, “all those years ago, I was afraid that I wouldn’t have any friends, for as long as I lived. But I had your dad, and I had Sirius, somewhere along the way, and it just made things better. Things were at their best when I finally started talking to a professional about everything. You know what he said?”

Harry shook his head; he knew that Remus had been to see someone, but he had never shared the intimate details of his sessions with him. “No. What did he say?”

“He was quick to tell me that, everything that had happened, my father’s reaction and subsequent rejection of me because of it... That none of it was my fault,” Remus said, a breath escaping his lungs, once that he’d obviously been keeping close to his chest throughout the entire conversation he’d been having with Harry. “For years, I thought it was my fault. The wolves attacking me, my mother having a heart attack and passing away after seeing me, and my father’s reaction to, well, everything,” he said softly. “But, none of it was my fault. I didn’t ask the wolves to come after me. I didn’t want my mother to die of a heart attack. And I certainly would never desire my father to reject me, or to think he’d lost everything.”

“I know it wasn’t my fault,” Harry said softly.

Remus nodded. “Good. You’re halfway there.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m not so sure...”

“No?” Remus asked. “How do you mean?”

Harry’s trainers scuffed the footwell of the car. “I think things would be better if my peers or a certain professor didn’t hate me...”

“Draco Malfoy?” Remus asked.

Harry sighed. “At the end of the day, I can handle Draco. It’s the alternative that’s frightening to me, Remus.”

“Ah. You mean Severus.”

Harry’s stomach, which usually rolled in contempt, found that he trembled slightly at the name, but not with revulsion as he usually did. No, he was considering, almost for the first time, the long, pale fingers working the beakers in chemistry class, the black smoldering eyes filled with knowledge as he discussed the Periodic Table and Atomic Structure, and that voice of his as he condemned his students for not researching their topics properly...

Harry swallowed, unknowing where this sudden change of pace involving Severus Snape, Professor of Physics, Chemistry, Biology (standard and marine), Biotechnology, Environmental and Forensic Science, and Astronomy had come from. In fact, up until that summer, Harry had positively loathed that professor, and Severus Snape had loathed him right back. However, when Headmaster Dumbledore had suggested that Professor Snape teach him meditation, in order to focus more on his classwork and less on the inner traumas he’d been going through, the taut line that had been drawn from the time he was eleven and had begun at the school, was suddenly erased.

Nothing made sense, not anymore, especially now that he was literally sitting in a car with Remus Lupin, in Scotland, and that the man had now been made his guardian. Harry found that the notion of waking up from this dream, if it proved to be one, would be a total nightmare, and he didn’t want to wake up, even if it meant another beating later. Harry swallowed, not knowing where he was going from here, and if...

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” he asked, turning back to Remus.

“I asked you if you would like me to sit down with Albus and Severus, and attempt to figure out how we can get the latter to treat you better at school.”

Harry worried his lower lip. Headmaster Dumbledore was perfectly aware of Professor Snape’s treatment of him but, as science was a core class and, therefore, required for graduation, and because Professor Snape was the only instructor with an advanced degree, everyone was at a loss for what could be done. Not that Harry didn’t have advocates in Ron and Hermione, plus Ron’s younger sister, Ginny, their friends Neville, Seamus, and Dean, plus another recent friend, Luna, but it all boiled down to teacher and student relations, and Harry didn’t want special treatment. Getting him out of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia’s house was enough.

“No, I’ll be all right, Remus,” Harry said, forcing a smile onto his face. “I’ve dealt with him for five years, what’s another three? How bad could it really be, after all?”


	2. Tell Me What Is True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Harry?”
> 
> “Yeah?” he asked, turning back to Remus.
> 
> “I asked you if you would like me to sit down with Albus and Severus, and attempt to figure out how we can get the latter to treat you better at school.”
> 
> Harry worried his lower lip. Headmaster Dumbledore was perfectly aware of Professor Snape’s treatment of him but, as science was a core class and, therefore, required for graduation, and because Professor Snape was the only instructor with an advanced degree, everyone was at a loss for what could be done. Not that Harry didn’t have advocates in Ron and Hermione, plus Ron’s younger sister, Ginny, their friends Seamus and Dean, plus another recent friend, Luna, but it all boiled down to teacher and student relations, and Harry didn’t want special treatment. Getting him out of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia’s house was enough.
> 
> “No, I’ll be all right, Remus,” Harry said, forcing a smile onto his face. “I’ve dealt with him for five years, what’s another three? How bad could it really be, after all?”

Harry was shocked at just how true to his word Remus had been, about allowing him to use the phone and providing him with stationary, as well as taking him around town the following day, once he was settled into their villa. The pair had had a marvelous time walking up and down the cobbled roads nearby, and Remus had been sure to get Harry appropriate street clothes, as well as purchasing a new uniform for the upcoming school year, which was due to begin in less than three weeks. It was a great comfort to Harry, as they ate their Chinese takeaway later that evening, that Remus lived and taught at the school, so he would always be around to make sure that he was all right.

Ron and Hermione came to the house at the beginning of the following week, and Harry showed them his bedroom—which was situated at the top of the house, with its own en suite bathroom, and had two generous windows on each side. Harry next showed them the garden, and Remus had made sure that he had pocket money, so the three of them ended up walking the ten or so minutes into town, where they ate at a burger restaurant and went to a movie. It was a lovely day for the three friends, and Harry wondered if he would ever return to Surrey, and into the ill-suited environment that the court system had deemed appropriate for him as a baby.

Harry and Remus took the pair of them to the train station later that evening, where Ron would ultimately return to Devon and Hermione to Hampstead. They waited for the train to arrive, and for Ron and Hermione to be safely upon it before they waved goodbye and began the drive home for the evening. Harry would miss them, he knew he would, but it was a comfort knowing that he would be around them full-time again in the next few weeks.

“Have a nice day?” Remus asked.

Harry nodded, making sure his seatbelt was in place. “Yeah, it was nice. We saw a new film playing in town. We had fun.”

“What did you see?”

“_Matilda_,” Harry said quietly. “Hermione liked it. Ron and I agreed that the title character is a lot like she is.”

“Ah, yes. It was a bit after my time, I’m afraid, to appreciate it when I was very young. But it is a good, worthwhile story nevertheless.”

“I never thought I’d see a character actually worse than Snape,” Harry said with a laugh, and Remus, although knowing that Harry should treat his professors with respect, was pleased to see him so happy again. “That Trunchbull had a mouth on her. Reminded me of Uncle Vernon’s sister, Aunt Marge...”

“I never met his sister,” Remus replied. “What was she like?”

“Like the rest of them—content to spoil Dudley and smack me around whenever something went wrong, no matter how remote,” Harry said, his tone candid. “She’s a dog breeder, you know, and whenever she’d bring a new generation to the house, she’d take bets to see how long it would take for it to attack me at her command. Her favorite one was Ripper, and he would regularly attempt to use me as a chew toy.”

Remus’s hands clenched at the steering wheel at hearing this latest tidbit of abuse that Harry was subjected to, and made a mental note to file it away, once Dora came by to take another report from Harry and, of course, from him. “Was she the one whose dog ran you up the tree, and Dudley just laughed at you instead of seeking help from an adult?”

Harry swallowed. “Yes,” he replied. “Of course, when they did manage to find me, all they could do was complain that the house was filthy and they were hungry. Had they not sullied up the house themselves, or actually picked up a cookbook or a telephone, they could’ve made sure that both those things weren’t a problem...”

“Well, rest assured you won’t have to go back there again,” Remus said consolingly. “Now that you’re sixteen, you’ve retained some rights within the legal system.”

This was news to Harry.

“I have?” he asked.

Remus nodded. “Yes. But there’s no way, with all the evidence that Scotland Yard’s managed to collect already, that they’ll be sending you back there, or letting Vernon and Petunia out of their holding cells.”

Harry sighed. “Poor Dudley,” he muttered sardonically. “Aunt Marge likely has custody of him now, I’ll bet.”

“I thought you said she was content to spoil Dudley. You’re not worrying about his safety now, after all he did to you, are you?”

Harry shook his head. “No, Remus, of course I’m not. Dudley will be spoiled rotten, just as he always is, although that aunt of his will likely mount a defense for Vernon and Petunia. She may be a dog breeder, but she has a mouth on her, one that pretty much forces you to listen, whether you want to or not.”

“Well, thankfully none of them knows where you are, other than Scotland. But Scotland, if you recall, is a pretty sizeable area, so it’s not like they’ll be able to just stick their grubby little paws in here and make a play to collect you.”

“Doubt they will, now that all this trouble has come up,” Harry remarked softly. “Of course, unless they really want to make it seem as if they haven’t done anything to me, although my physical, emotional, and mental states say otherwise. Not to mention my body—it’s a roadmap, Remus, and it’s not a pretty one. Each bruise, each burn, each cut—they all tell a different story about what’s happened to me over the years. And, with each wound, my trust broke within the system just a bit more. I don’t understand why we had to wait so long for precious evidence to be gathered. The authorities should’ve stepped in immediately when they got the notion that there was something wrong at Privet Drive.”

“You’re not wrong, Harry, you’re not wrong. Unfortunately, that’s just not how the system works. At least, not at the moment.”

Harry tilted his head back then, staring at the roof of the car, and crossed his arms over his chest, knowing full well that it was a protective gesture. “Well, then... It sounds like someone has to step in and do something about it,” he said quietly.

. . .

Severus gazed at the preliminary chemistry experiment he always did just before the school year was due to begin. He would brush up on the various texts of the future assignments he would put forth for the dozens of students that passed through the doors of his classroom over the summer months so as never to forget key ingredients and such. Severus looked down at the beaker filled with green liquid and put it into the pot and, once he was satisfied that the experiment was complete, unplugged the Bunsen burner and set the concoction into a safe container to save for another time.

Checking the time, he knew that, if he continued with his thought process on all the assignments he had in place for the following year, then he would surely be late to the staff meeting. He shook his head, pulling down the sleeves of his lab coat and hung it on the peg on the back of his classroom door, before making a grab for his formal teacher robe and made a grab for the notes he had taken for the very purpose of the meeting. Slipping out of his classroom, he made his way down the corridor and towards the staff lounge, where the meetings for professors were always held, either when school was in or out of session.

Severus opened the door and walked leisurely inside the staff lounge, taking his seat in the middle of Albus, the headmaster, and Minerva, Professor of History, who had yet to arrive. Filius and Pomona, Professors of English and Horticulture respectively, gave greetings to Severus and he nodded his head at the both of them. He surveyed the rest of the table, noting that Remus, the Physical Education Instructor, was also missing; high-flying Rolanda, who was the school’s coach; Dolores, the rude Russian Literature Professor that everyone seemed to hate even more than him; Gilderoy, the flamboyant French instructor that Severus had never liked; Cuthbert, the silver-haired Mythology Instructor who always appeared dead on his feet; and Sybill, the school’s Graphic Design and Arts Professor, who had a spacey look on her face, which was really just the usual, were all packed around the table, waiting just as he was.

It was then that Albus breezed into the room precisely one minute before the meeting was due to begin, with Minerva and Remus just behind him. Albus and Minerva took their seats on either side of Severus, while Remus took his place between Filius and Rolanda. Albus stood for a moment before his chair, which he always did before meetings, to ensure that quiet was called and that attention was given to him. He was a decent headmaster, Severus supposed, although his methods and certain bouts of favoritism over the years frequently got on his nerves.

“As you all may have noticed,” Albus began, once quiet had been achieved, “Minerva and I were very nearly late to our meeting this afternoon, as we were closeted with Remus, for a rather important discussion.”

“What’s going on, Albus?” Filius squeaked, and Severus turned to look at the small man, who just so happened to be the smallest professor on staff, and was even smaller than most of the Secondary School beginners.

“I’m afraid, Filius, that there was a great tragedy happening right under our noses, and only now that it’s gotten too terrible to ignore, that the proper authorities have stepped in at last,” Albus said, and sat down heavily in his chair, his normally twinkling blue eyes looking troubled. “It seems as though young Harry Potter was in dire straits back in England.”

“Oh, surely not,” Dolores replied, her toad-like expression taking on one of disdain. She loved giving Potter detention, especially when he called her out in class, as he had done frequently the year before, as Russian Literature was a graduation requirement, to be taken during the pupils’ eleventh year.

“I’m afraid so, Dolores,” Minerva cut across her, narrowing her brown eyes slightly at her fellow professor; Minerva, bless her, was one of the most outspoken people on the staff against Dolores’s methods, which, Severus had to agree, were, quite frankly, downright medieval in nature.

“Now, now,” Albus said, knowing full well that Minerva was in the right, but could hardly sack a professor that the School Board of Governors had elected; this had been the case for Gilderoy as well, who had been on the staff for nearly four years. “Remus requested to be the one to tell you what has befallen young Harry. Remus?” Albus said, inclining his head at their recluse physical education instructor, who hadn’t taught there in nearly three years.

Remus sighed; his shoulders slackened slightly at that, and Severus noted that the man looked even more exhausted than usual. “As you all know, I have a direct connection with Harry, as I was best friends with his father growing up,” he began, and Severus lowered his gaze, so as his fellow professor wouldn’t see him sneering. “Upon his birth, my late friend Sirius Black and I were made Harry’s godfathers. Unfortunately, when Tom Riddle murdered James and Lily in cold blood nearly fifteen years ago, Sirius was accused of mass murder, and I wasn’t in a proper financial position to take Harry. As such, Harry was put into the care of Vernon and Petunia Dursley; Petunia, if you recall, was Lily’s elder sister, but the sisters bore no love for the other, so, unfortunately, Harry was seen as an unwanted burden more than anything else.”

This was shocking news to Severus; Potter, who had never particularly been adept at chemistry, or any other sciences for that matter, would use his science class time to mouth-off to him in class. Among other things, Severus was convinced that he would ruin his experiments on purpose, just to spite him. Severus was content to believe that Potter was a spitting image, both inside and out, of his school enemy, the lazy and arrogant James Potter, who had stolen his best friend, the kind and considerate Lily Evans, from him, due to Severus falling in with the wrong crowd as a teenager. As such, after James and Lily were murdered, it was simple enough to transfer his hatred from James directly onto Potter, and young Potter’s cocky attitude certainly didn’t help matters.

“I first became aware of Harry’s abuse—physical, psychological, and spiritual, as that is all Harry has admitted to thus far—when I began teaching here,” Remus explained. “Albus worked as a go-between and fostered a relationship between Harry and I, and we became like a father and son very quickly. It is because of this that I took a leave of absence the following two school years, so as to figure out a way to bring Harry away from that environment, which was clearly ill-suited for him. In that time, I was able to hire a solicitor, not just to gain custody of Harry, but also to get my inheritance from my grandparents, which allowed me to purchase an appropriate home for myself and for Harry, as the flat I was previously renting was far too small.”

Severus felt as if he had been chewing on lemons and smelling rubbing alcohol for years; now, it seemed, as if nothing was true to his previous perceptions. It was as if a window had been opened, and he was smelling the Water of Leith for the first time; the sea air of truth almost seemed to be blasting him in the face, purging him of the lies he had believed. He had believed that Potter had been happy, for lack of a better term, and had been loved in the situation he had found himself in upon the murders of Lily and James. Now, with the truth, over a decade old, falling out of Remus’s lips, Severus truly began to consider, almost for the first time, what else he had been blinded to over the years.

“The solicitor was able to bring the evidence to court, and I was immediately approved for custody of Harry as of last week,” Remus said, smiling for the first time. “Vernon and Petunia are being held back in England on various charges including abuse and neglect, and Harry will only be given the opportunity to see them again if he chooses to, and when, or if, he decides to take the stand against them in court.”

Severus felt as if he had been slammed repeatedly in the gut at the notion that young Potter had been abused so terribly, that there was now an investigation. Not just that, but Potter had been removed from the home he had grown up in. _No_,_ not a home_, Severus reminded himself, due to the fact that Remus was now mentioning that Potter had lived in the cupboard under the stairs until his admittance into Wartsmoth Academy. Such living conditions could only be described as a prison. At least Severus had had a bedroom growing up, if one could call it that, with its cracked and barren walls, single lumpy mattress bed with a too-thin blanket, ragged curtains upon the solitary window, and a stone floor, with no carpet in sight...

“And now, we’ll defer the meeting over to Severus,” Albus was saying, which was just enough to pull Severus from his thoughts and snap to attention. “Severus, would you mind telling us your lesson plans for the first term?”

Severus cleared his throat and shuffled the papers in front of him. “Certainly,” he managed to get out, his thoughts still on young Potter.

. . .

Harry was waiting for Dora in the back garden of the villa he and Remus were now living in together, for it was a very warm day, and he didn’t fancy being cooped up in the house during the conversation. Remus had brought out a tray with a pitcher of lemonade, two glasses, a small bowl of ice, a second small bowl of sugar, and a plate of biscuits he’d picked up in town on his way back from his meeting at Wartsmoth Academy.

“You’re all right doing this alone?” Remus asked, squeezing Harry’s shoulder after he had set the tray down.

Harry nodded. “If things get bad, I know where you are.”

Remus smiled. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll go inside and wait for Dora, and let her know where you are.”

Harry smiled back at him. “Thanks, Remus.”

Harry watched as Remus nodded at him before turning on his heel and making his way back into the villa. Harry turned and looked around the garden; it was much nicer than Aunt Petunia’s back in Surrey; it had cobblestones upon the ground, which formed a path from the little sitting area to the back door, and again, which stretched around the house and towards the gate. There were more stones situated around the various flower beds, which housed rose bushes, thistles patches, heather, Scottish primroses, and a few trees dotting the area, which included wych elms, a birch or two, wild cherry, and hawthorn trees.

“Harry?”

Harry turned at the sound of Dora’s voice, and found that she had slipped into the garden via the back door of the house. “Hi,” he said casually, getting to his feet and shaking her hand, and then motioned for her to sit across from him at the small table. “Lemonade? Biscuit?”

“Yes, thank you,” Dora replied with a smile, pouring the drink herself and plunking a trio of ice cubes into the glass. She stirred a heaping spoon of sugar into it and then snagged a biscuit before she leaned back in her chair. “How’s it been? Living with Remus.”

Harry smiled at that. “A vast improvement,” he said quietly. “I can actually act like a teenager, which is nothing short of a miracle. I mean, now I only have to keep my room clean, and Remus and I alternate the laundry and the dishes duties. And we have special cleaners to do the rest of the house, and to do gardening...” He shrugged. “I never knew that it could be like this. I actually feel as if I’m living now, not just surviving.”

Dora nodded. “That’s really good to hear, Harry.” She worried her lower lip for a moment. “And would it be all right if I asked you some questions about Surrey?”

Harry nodded, knowing that that had been coming. “Of course.”

“And remember,” Dora went on, getting out her notepad and pen and giving a serious look across the table to Harry, “if you’re uncomfortable and want to move on, we can. Or, if you’ve had enough for the day, that’s perfectly all right, too.”

Harry nodded again, relieved that the rules were still in place. “Thank you.”

Dora smiled at him and looked over her notes from the last interview. “Well, last time, we talked about your chores, and what your uncle would do with his breakfast tomatoes,” she said, and did her best not to shudder at the memory. “You mentioned that your cousin and his friends enjoyed a game called ‘Harry Hunting’. Could you tell me a bit more about that?”

Harry nodded at her. “Sure. Piers Polkiss was Dudley’s best mate,” he began, and Dora began writing as he spoke. “Him, Dudley, and the rest of the gang would roam the neighborhood, and, if I wasn’t inside the house working, or tending to the garden, or locked in my bedroom, I would be evading them at every turn. However, if they couldn’t find me, they’d find younger children to bully or beat up.”

Dora stiffened slightly at this, but forced herself to keep writing. “They would beat you up, then?” she asked.

Harry nodded. “A lot of the bruises on my arms, around the burn marks, came from that,” he told her, his voice devoid of hardly any emotion; Dora knew by now that this meant that he was trying to distance himself from his past, as a means to communicate it to her, without completely falling apart at the seams. “Piers would hold my arms behind my back while Dudley would be shouting orders, and Malcolm, Dennis, or Gordon would take punches or kicks to their unsuspecting victims.”

“You?” Dora whispered.

Harry gave a stiff nod. “Yeah. Sometimes me. Or other little kids from the neighborhood that they’d get their hands on if I was unavailable.”

“How bad would it get?”

“If you didn’t scream and beg for mercy, you’d get knocked to the ground, and they’d put their trainer onto the side of your head,” Harry told her bluntly. “They would put pressure on it, telling you that they’d make sure that your brains were splattered all over the pavement if you didn’t tell them...stuff...”

“Stuff?”

“That, or make them promises.”

“What kind of promises?”

Harry shuddered at the thoughts of it. “Getting on your knees,” he said softly then, and felt the hard ground beneath his knees then, as well as his neck being jerked this way and that, followed by the cruel laughter filling his ears, and the tell-tale groans.

“Harry? Are you telling me that your cousin and his friends would make you perform oral sex on them?” Dora whispered.

Harry raised his eyes to hers, and physically felt the pain washing through him; that, coupled with the shame of sharing one of his deep, dark secrets. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he permitted his nails bit bite into his palms all over again. “They’d always wanted to go further than that, because I was ‘such a good boy’,” Harry went on, a full-body shudder overtaking him then. “But... But...”

“It’s all right, Harry,” Dora said quickly. “You don’t have to...”

“I’m dirty... I’m so dirty,” Harry whimpered then, putting his face into his hands, the hot tears splashing onto his open palms. “Who would ever want me?”

“Plenty of people want you in their lives, Harry,” Dora said, squeezing Harry’s shoulder gently, but he didn’t look up at her. “You’ve got your friends from Wartsmoth Academy, plus there’s Remus who risked everything to get you...”

“I don’t mean like that,” Harry said, forcing the words out of his mouth as he lifted his face from his hands. “I mean... I don’t know, a partner, someday. How could anyone take one look at my past and see that I’m anything but damaged goods?”

Dora swallowed. “Listen to me, Harry—this, none of this, was your fault. You were unfortunately failed by the system on such a severe level, to the point where you were broken emotionally and physically. It doesn’t mean you’re going to stay broken, Harry. It just means that you need to get the tools necessary to pick up the pieces. And, guess what? You don’t have to do it all alone.”

Harry swallowed. “I don’t?”

“No, you don’t,” Dora assured him. “You’ve got Remus, your friends, many professors at Wartsmoth Academy, and Scotland Yard on your side. We’re all here for you.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll try to remember that,” he whispered.

. . . 

Severus was brewing in his classroom when Albus showed up. “Can I help you?”

Albus sighed, shutting the door behind him and permitting himself a momentary distraction as his eyes roved along the numerous shelves of books Severus had. “I wanted to speak to you about the staff meeting last week. How are you feeling?”

“About the upcoming school year?” Severus asked, ignoring the fleeting quake inside him, as he knew exactly what Albus was really talking about. “I should think that, if the students took a few moments this summer to study the texts provided, that we’ll have a far better school year than in years past...”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, Severus,” Albus said, knowing full well what his colleague was doing, and wouldn’t stand for it. He crossed the room and moved to sit at Severus’s desk, and looked through the notes on upcoming lessons that dotted the surface. “I think you know very well to what I am referring.”

Severus swallowed, putting the concoction he’d put together inside a proper container, knowing that he could easily use it as an example for a future class. “You’re talking about Potter, then, I take it?” he asked, his tone clipped.

“Harry, yes,” Albus said, and Severus managed to win the battle against rolling his eyes. “I was wondering how you were feeling about it.”

“The circumstances he found himself in?” Severus asked, taking the brew in the container and putting it into the cooling fridge. “That, Albus?”

Albus nodded, leaning back in Severus’s desk chair. “You’ve shown favoritism towards Draco for a number of years, Severus...”

“He is my godson,” Severus replied, deliberately not looking at Albus as he took his beakers over towards the massive classroom sink, and turned on the water. “Why wouldn’t I show him just a bit of favoritism now and again?”

“Because this isn’t just ‘now and again’, Severus. It was from the time he began at the school when he was eleven,” Albus said gently, getting to his feet and moving towards the classroom sink himself. “I believe your emotions towards young Harry are clouded by hatred, not just because of James, but because of Draco’s feelings towards him.”

Severus sneered at the notion that Draco could actually be manipulating his feelings on Potter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Albus.”

“Oh, I think you do, my boy,” Albus replied, his tone candid. “Draco embodies everything you wish you had growing up—two loving parents; a set list of activities; stability, both in financial and emotional matters. And then there’s Harry, the physical product of your greatest enemy and your greatest friend, who you initially believed to be everything like your enemy and yet, as of last week, you find that you two are exceptionally similar.”

Severus rolled his eyes as the water temperature warmed enough, and rinsed the beakers he still held in his hands. “There are no similarities, Albus.”

“You were there when Remus mentioned that Harry lived in a cupboard under the stairs until the age of eleven, when he came to us, to the school,” Albus said patiently.

“I had a bedroom, Albus,” Severus told him, making a grab for the dish soap and scrub brush, and used them on the first beaker.

“Hardly a bedroom, Severus, and you know it,” Albus went on, more firmly. “The way in which you grew up, Severus, was positively horrifying. What was done to you...”

Severus let go of the beaker he held, due to the slipperiness of water and soap, and it shattered on the base of the sink beneath him. He reached into the water to grab it, but, as there was soap everywhere, he couldn’t make out where it was, and ended up slashing at his fingers. “Dammit, Albus! I will not discuss it!” Severus thundered, rinsing his hand underneath the warm water, before he stuck the fingers in his mouth.

“Oh, dear,” Albus said, shaking his head. “Perhaps let Poppy see to that, Severus—”

“No!” Severus shouted, his fingers slipping from his lips. “I’m _fine_.”

Albus shook his head at him then. “No, Severus, you’re not fine. It’s plain to see that you’re not fine, Severus, and that’s all right.”

Severus pushed past him, the beaker cleaning forgotten as he made his way towards his desk, and got some bandages and sterile pads to clean and patch up his wound with. “Everything is all right with me, Albus. Don’t worry about me,” he replied bitterly.

“Severus, it’s easy to notice that your very world, and everything you’ve previously believed in, has been shattered,” Albus told him steadily, watching as Severus cleaned up his fingers. “You yourself have believed falsehoods about Harry since he was a boy.”

Severus shook his head at him. “I cannot help if I read him a certain way, Albus,” he said, his tone clipped as he wrapped the bandages around his now-cleaned fingers.

“You wouldn’t permit yourself to read him any other way, Severus. Based on Harry’s appearance alone, you allowed your emotions to influence you otherwise. Can’t you see that, despite his parentage, he’s nothing like James was?”

Severus sneered. “I don’t want to think...”

“And what about Lily?” Albus asked, not wanting to hear Severus’s sorry excuse. “What about the woman whom you called your dearest friend? He’s her child, too, Severus. Whenever you look at Harry in his eyes, you know full well he isn’t James.”

“I know he is her child, Albus. I saw the announcement in _The Times_, a week after Lily and James were married, as well as when Lily had given birth to him. It’s not only his name, Albus, but the fact that fame surrounds him, due to his parents being Riddle’s last victims. Of course, he was to be killed, too, although the constables got the tip-off from that rat-faced Pettigrew before anything could happen to him...”

“Don’t tell me now that you wished for a toddler Harry to be slain alongside Lily and James, Severus,” said Albus, condemnation in his voice.

Severus swallowed. “No, of course I didn’t, Albus. And I may have been in on the plans myself, but I changed my ways. I’ve not seen Riddle since I was ordered to give testimony in court, in exchange for immunity.”

“Which is why you’ve still got the position here at Wartsmoth,” Albus said. “Were it not for your cooperation, you would have been out of a job.”

“And sentenced to prison for following him and keeping silent until after the crime had been committed,” Severus went on, the bitterness returning into his tone. “You know as well as I do that I wouldn’t have survived in there, Albus.”

“Which is why I went to bat for you, Severus. I knew that you didn’t belong there. You had been influenced by Draco’s own father from the time that you were a teenager. Having someone older take such an interest in you, and nurturing your talents, as well as giving you something akin to the love that you so craved...”

“That ended by the time Riddle was arrested,” Severus snapped.

“But it was back on again when you sought comfort after Lily’s death,” Albus said softly. “I know for a fact that it went on until five years ago.”

“He has an agreement with Narcissa, Albus. They’ve got an open marriage. I will not be made to feel guilty for my preferences.”

“Nor to I expect you to, my boy,” Albus said. “However, when it comes to the treatment of the students here, I expect you to feel some guilt. You know as well as I do that you’ve given Harry quite the wringer treatment, for no apparent reason.”

Severus looked away from him.

“Is it just because of his connection to James?” Albus wanted to know. “Or is it because you blame him for Lily’s death?”

“No, I don’t blame him for Lily’s death,” Severus told him. “Potter had nothing to do with that, and I’m not so completely incensed to think otherwise.”

“Then why do you insist on such harsh treatment?”

“Purely educational reasons, Albus.”

Albus stroked his beard. “Really, Severus?”

“Yes,” he said. “Why?”

Albus sighed. “I’m simply wondering who you’re trying to convince of that apparent fact, Severus,” the headmaster said with a slight shake of his head, before he slipped out of the science classroom. 

. . .

The second time Dora showed up to take a report from Harry, he told her about the house rules while he was living at the Dursleys. These included his time in the bathroom and how many times a week he was permitted to bathe; how long he was to take with specific chores, which included gardening, cooking, and cleaning; and the three-strike rule if he got something wrong within the household, and how he would be punished for it. Harry sat across from Dora as he recounted these things, in the cushioned window seat of the living room; it was raining that day in Culross, and so being outside in the back garden was not an option.

“Explain the three-strike rule to me,” Dora said gently, watching as Remus’s cat launched herself into Harry’s lap, and Harry painstakingly scratched her behind her ears.

“If I would take too long on a task, or do it incorrectly, I would get a small punishment each time it happened,” Harry explained as the cat, Valencia, curled up in his lap. “The first strike would mean I was slapped. Strike two, I’d be knocked backwards until I hit a wall or something. The third and final strike, I was hit until I fell to the floor, and Dudley was permitted to beat on me until I collapsed from the blows.”

Dora felt sickened at this disclosure, but she wrote down everything Harry told her. “Would they just leave you there, say, if you passed out?”

Harry nodded, the movement jerking his neck ever so slightly. “Yeah. They’d wait until I came to before they’d do anything else. Dudley later said it was because it was much more pleasant because they could hear my moans of pain.”

Dora shuddered. “You’d make noise?”

“It started when I was four,” Harry said quietly, “the three-strikes rule. I used to scream whenever they did what they did to me. Then, I was able to focus on something in the room—the floor or a piece of fraying wallpaper—and the screams would die down.”

Dora swallowed. “Please tell me they never...”

“Splattered me everywhere? No,” Harry replied with a dark laugh. “I’d have to clean it up if they managed to do so.”

“But, it hurt?”

“Yes—bruising each time it happened, and the migraines were terrible. Dudley even broke my jaw once, about a week before I started Year Nine at Wartsmoth. That’s what tipped Remus off to the entire thing in the first place.”

Dora’s mouth fell open. “They sent you to Wartsmoth with a broken jaw?!” she demanded, her voice filled with shock at the depraved indifference.

“Of course,” Harry replied nonchalantly with a shrug. “I wasn’t good enough to be given proper medical care. I’m lucky that they got me my shots, however. I think it was because they didn’t want Dudley at risk for any infections, despite the fact that he got the shots, too.”

Dora gritted her teeth so as to prevent herself from sobbing at this newfound information. “Yes, I see,” she said, her voice soft. They spoke for a few more minutes, and then things became too real for Harry, so Dora ended the interview, and watched as he took Valencia out of the room with him and headed upstairs. Dora turned her gaze outside, watching as the rain came down, hard, on the plants of the backyard...

“How was he today?”

Dora turned and watched as Remus walked into the living room, and took Harry’s vacated seat across from her. “He was polite, as usual,” she told him with a smile. “Cut him off when things got too overwhelming, however.”

Remus sighed. “Your superiors must hate that.”

Dora shook her head. “Actually, they’ve been very understanding,” she said with a smile. “I’ve only got a couple more sessions with him, however. Once those are up, I’m obligated to give you some names of some court-appointed psychiatrists. Any information Harry gives them regarding the case, they will turn over to the courts.”

“We’ve discussed him seeking professional help,” Remus told her. “He’s not against it, but I don’t think he’s quite ready for it yet.”

“I can understand that,” Dora replied with a smile, and Remus noted how much it brightened her already lovely face. “We all need our own time to process what happened to us. I saw a counselor starting from the age of fifteen. It really helped me, given my past and all that I’d been through...”

“Harry mentioned that your cousins are Sirius and Draco?”

Dora nodded. “Yes. I was close to Sirius, like you were, and it was just awful when he passed away a few months ago. But, my aunt is where she belongs now for murdering him. She shouldn’t have been paroled after what she did to Frank and Alice Longbottom. However, that’s what happens when you live in a country whose government believes in rehabilitation over outright punishment.”

“Why did you have to see a counselor?” Remus asked, and immediately shook his head, and admonished himself internally. “No, sorry. Don’t answer that. That was a personal and highly inappropriate question—”

“Wait,” Dora said, reaching out and taking ahold of his wrist, and feeling her heart pounding as they made physical contact for the first time, and felt her cheeks flush automatically from the moment he looked at her. “It’s all right. I don’t talk about it much, I’ll admit, but my counselor told me that opening up to people I trust is beneficial for my treatment.”

Remus blinked. “You trust me?”

Dora smiled. “Of course. We’ve had conversations after every interview session of Harry’s, and we communicated by phone during your suit for custody. Of course I trust you, Remus,” she said softly then, her voice around his name like a caress.

“So,” Remus said, swallowing, “you’ve been seeing a counselor since you were fifteen?”

Dora nodded. “Yes. I had information about my aunt, Bellatrix, when she came up for a parole period. Her husband and brother-in-law, as I’m sure you’re aware of, had escaped prison and were on the run.”

Remus nodded. “Yes, it was all over the papers and the news.”

“Does the name ‘Girl N’ ring any bells?” she whispered.

Remus’s mouth went dry. “You’re ‘Girl N’?” he whispered back.

Dora nodded. “Yes,” she replied.

_She remembered leaving the courthouse, after going over the preliminary questioning in court in regards to her aunt’s upcoming parole hearing. She’d insisted to her parents that she was old enough to take the tube home by herself, on her own. Even with her uncle and his brother on the loose, after escaping prison, she had had no idea that they would be after her. As a minor, her name was not included on the witness list, and she was instead referred to as ‘Girl N’ for security measures._

_She had been abducted the moment she had turned the corner, barely a block away from the courthouse, under cover of darkness. For the next seven hours, she was held in a derelict building, with Rodolphus Lestrange standing guard outside, and Rabastan Lestrange doing his best to keep her quiet. His evilness won out in the end, and he loosened the restraints upon her wooden chair after holding her for a couple of hours, tired of merely beating her into submission, in a last-ditch effort to prevent her from testifying against her aunt, his own sister-in-law, in order to get her out of prison. Once the restraints were out of the way, Rabastan did what he did best—murder. In this case, he merely murdered Dora’s childhood, but that was enough to get him a life sentence for kidnapping and—_

“How did you even...?”

“Recover?” Dora asked with a small smile. “It took years. But I faced my fears when I began working for Scotland Yard. I wanted to catch the bad guys, so to speak. I’ve met many girls and women, and, to a lesser extent, boys and men, who have been raped, as I was, and it certainly helps to know that I’m not alone.”

“And, you’re happy?” Remus asked.

Slowly, Dora turned Remus’s wrist lose, and permitted her hand to drift down to his hand, where she traced its outline with her fingertip. “I’m starting to be,” she whispered, meeting Remus’s eyes for a moment with a small smile. “Especially now.”

. . .

Remus took Harry to Wartsmoth four days after his last interview with Dora, and Harry was feeling relieved to be seeing Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Luna. Of course, the notion that he would have to contend with Draco Malfoy for the next nine months, minus Christmas break, was not something he was looking forward to. However, he had dealt with it before, so what would another two years of this bring?

“How are you feeling, mate?” Ron asked, embracing Harry as they met outside the canteen, on the main floor of the school.

“I’m fine, Ron,” Harry said, getting out of his arms and embracing Hermione next. “It helps knowing that I won’t be going back to Surrey anytime soon.”

“Of course,” Hermione said gently, clutching at Harry for a moment before letting him go. “I’m just glad that Remus could be there for you during this difficult time.”

“_Professor_ Lupin, Hermione,” Ron said with a grin.

Hermione rewarded his cockiness with a smack in his ribs. “Shove it, Ronald. You know very well who I mean.”

“Oh, dear,” said Ginny, Ron’s younger sister, as she stepped forward, Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom standing on either side of her, with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan following close behind the little group. Ginny looked around at the players in the scenario, and seemed to almost immediately deduce what had gone on. “What has my brother done this time, Hermione?” she asked with a grin.

“He insinuated that I was insulting _Professor_ Lupin,” she said, giving Ron a scathing look, to which he put up his hands in surrender.

“I-I didn’t mean...”

“Hermione’s right,” Ginny replied, rolling her brown eyes before turning to Harry. “Hey, Harry,” she said, her cheeks flushing as she stepped towards him, and Harry gave her a hug. “I’m really sorry about what happened this summer. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I think Harry’s feeling much better than he has been recently,” Luna put in, smiling across the space at Harry. “His body language denotes relaxation, which means that he is more at ease with the goings-on in his life right now.”

“Thanks, Luna,” Harry said to her with a quick smile, before turning to Neville, Dean, and Seamus. “And you three? How’s everything going?”

“My holiday was all right. Better than Seamus’s anyway,” Dean put in.

Seamus sighed. “_The Times_ is just eating up the preparations for the trial,” he said, his voice filled with disdain. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah, well. It sells newspapers.”

“Shouldn’t be at your expense, mate. This is your sanity we’re talking about here,” Neville put in quickly, always quick to stand up for Harry.

“Well, I’m glad to know that someone understands,” Harry said, and grinned at Neville. He turned at the sound of footsteps behind them then, and he locked eyes with Professor Snape for a moment, before the man hesitated for a moment, something lurking behind those captivating black eyes of his, before he swept past them and into the canteen. “Some things never change, then, I take it,” he muttered with a shrug.

It was then that a fellow Lower Sixth Form student came into view; one Lavender Brown, with her golden-brown curls and engaging brown eyes. She was dressed prettily that day; as it was the day before the start-of-term, the students were not obligated to wear their uniforms yet. She smiled at the group gathered; she was wearing pink lip gloss, and she almost immediately turned her full attention to Ron.

“Hi, Ron,” she said sweetly to him.

“Hi, there,” Ron replied, his voice rising into a higher octave.

Lavender smiled broadly at him then before she disappeared into the canteen.

Ron, looking as if he was walking on clouds, immediately moved to follow her.

“Oh, boy,” Ginny said, shaking her head before putting an arm around Luna’s shoulders and guided her towards the Year Ten table.

“See you in there, mate,” Dean said, and he, Seamus, and Neville walked towards the Lower Sixth Form table.

Harry moved until he was standing beside Hermione, who was watching the interaction between Ron and Lavender at the Lower Sixth Form table play out. “You all right?”

Hermione flushed, before she shook her bushy brown head. “Perfectly all right, Harry. Why wouldn’t I be?” she said, almost fiercely, almost as if she was attempting to convince herself of the fact. “The real question is, of course, how are you?”

Harry swallowed then, his eyes moving from watching Ron and Lavender’s conversation up to the professors’ table. His eyes immediately moved to where Professor Snape sat, and felt his heart pounding in his chest when he found them, but proceeded to beat double time when he realized that the chemistry professor was staring right back at him. “I... I think I’ll be all right, considering, Hermione,” Harry replied, feeling his knees giving slightly at the look the man gave him, before he turned away, and followed Hermione to the Lower Sixth Form table.


	3. In Tales of Dreams and Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, boy,” Ginny said, shaking her head before putting an arm around Luna’s shoulders and guided her towards the Year Ten table.
> 
> “See you in there, mate,” Dean said, and he, Seamus, and Neville walked towards the Lower Sixth Form table.
> 
> Harry moved until he was standing beside Hermione, who was watching the interaction between Ron and Lavender at the Lower Sixth Form table play out. “You all right?”
> 
> Hermione flushed, before she shook her bushy brown head. “Perfectly all right, Harry. Why wouldn’t I be?” she said, almost fiercely, almost as if she was attempting to convince herself of the fact. “The real question is, of course, how are you?”
> 
> Harry swallowed then, his eyes moving from watching Ron and Lavender’s conversation up to the professors’ table. His eyes immediately moved to where Professor Snape sat, and felt his heart pounding in his chest when he found them, but proceeded to beat double time when he realized that the chemistry professor was staring right back at him. “I... I think I’ll be all right, considering, Hermione,” Harry replied, feeling his knees giving slightly at the look the man gave him, before he turned away, and followed Hermione to the Lower Sixth Form table.

Classes were officially over that second day back at Wartsmoth Academy, and Harry had left Ron and Hermione to study in the library while he headed outside for a breather. He enjoyed school in the past, largely due to the notion that it was an escape from Surrey and his less-than-savory homelife. Now, however, although he still enjoyed it, he realized that he couldn’t simply view it as an escape anymore, because now Remus had custody of him, and, given that he was nearing the end of his education, he knew full well that decisions would need to be made regarding his future.

“Harry?”

Harry turned at the familiarity of the voice behind him, and was slightly surprised to see Ginny following him. He swallowed, hesitating for a moment, before he permitted himself to reply. “I was just going for a walk before dinner, Gin. Everything okay?”

Ginny sighed, stepping closer to him. “Yeah, things are fine,” she assured him. “I... I just wanted to ask why you haven’t asked me out yet.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “What?” he asked.

Ginny worried her lower lip. “Well, ever since you ended things with Cho last year, and I broke up with Michael, I thought we were headed in that direction... I mean, you were there for me when I was torn up about Michael leaving me for Cho, and I was there for you after Sirius...”

Harry sighed. “I understand why it seemed like we were headed in the direction of a romantic relationship,” he admitted, stuffing his hands into the trouser pockets of his school uniform. “I didn’t exactly...” He trailed off.

“We were snogging plenty before the school year ended,” Ginny put in, her arms crossed over her chest in a protective gesture. “I guess... Did I misread the signals? Or did I do something wrong, Harry? Because, once school ended for the summer, you didn’t call me or anything. I just thought that you were confused...”

Harry shook his head. “I think I needed comfort, Ginny. You didn’t pressure me to talk after Sirius was murdered, and that, and in between the police statements we all had to go over because we were there when it happened...” He shrugged his shoulders. “It was just easier to snog you and just...forget. I’ll readily admit to using you as a distraction, Ginny, and I should have been more upfront with you.”

Ginny swallowed at the news. “I’m not about to get battleax about you for supposedly using me like that,” she said softly to him, and Harry nodded. “You were hurting, and I’m glad I could offer you some comfort.” She rolled her shoulders. “But, I don’t think I see a future for the two of us. I’m right, aren’t I? You just see me as a friend?”

“I see you as a sister, like Hermione,” Harry explained. “I love you, Gin, but I’m not _in_ love with you, and I don’t think I ever could be. I’m sorry for that. Things would be a lot easier if we could just end up together...”

Ginny smiled, stepping forward and hugging Harry. “Don’t worry. I... I don’t think I’m in love with you either,” she said softly. “I’ve... I’ve actually started seeing someone. We started seeing each other almost two months ago,” she went on, and pulled away from Harry. “I’m really happy, Harry; happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

Harry grinned; he wanted Ginny to be happy, he really did. “Who is it?” he asked.

“It’s Dean,” Ginny whispered, her face flushing in a moment of joy. “He came to the house this summer to hang out with Ron a bit, but Ron was tied up a bit on the phone with Hermione, so then we got to talking. Then, things changed when he kissed me, and I really wanted to kiss him back, and so I did.”

“Dean’s a good bloke,” Harry told her with a nod. “I know that the two of you will be really happy, and not just because you’ve got football in common.”

Ginny sighed. “Just wish you were playing for the school team this year. I know you said that last term would be your final season, but...” She shrugged. “I know that things hit the fan this summer, Harry. I know that. Ron mentioned that Remus got custody of you before him and Hermione went to see you.”

Harry nodded at her. “Guess it was a big tip-off, considering that I was never allowed to have guests at the Dursleys.”

“You know I’m here, right?” she asked, her voice quiet. “If you ever want to talk to me about anything, I’m here.”

Harry looked around then, deliberately lowering his voice. “There _is_ something I want to talk about, but I’m not sure how to tell Ron and Hermione...”

Ginny nodded. “Does Remus know?”

Harry shook his head. “I haven’t told him, no.”

“Well, of course you can tell me, Harry, if you’re comfortable. I won’t say anything about it, not even to Luna, I swear.”

“I know; I trust you, Gin,” Harry assured her. He stepped closer then, and said softly, “I figured out why I can’t love you.”

Ginny’s eyebrows raised quickly then. “Is... Is there another girl, then? Did you call Cho over the summer and try and work things out?”

Harry shook his head. “No, no. It’s nothing like that. Not a girl, anyway.”

“Oh,” Ginny said, nodding her head in understanding. “You... You’re gay, then?”

“Yeah, I’m gay,” Harry replied, finding it empowering to say those words.

“How did you find out?”

Harry dragged his tongue over his lip; he couldn’t tell Ginny that it was because he’d been thinking about Professor Snape all summer. He knew how understanding she was, but even he didn’t think she’d be able to wrap her head around that one. “I just did some thinking over the summer, Gin, about my future, and what I’d like in a partner.”

“Anyone strike your fancy, then?”

Immediately, Harry shook his head, forcing a laugh. “No. No, of course not.”

“So, not Boy George or anything like that?” Ginny asked, laughing too.

Harry shook his head at her. “No. He’s...not my type.”

“Do you even have a type?” she asked.

Harry swallowed. “Dark hair,” he said, a smile coming onto his face. “Dark hair, dark eyes, and pale skin. They also have to have nice...hands,” he went on.

“Hmmm,” Ginny replied, thinking that over. “Well, Mum and Dad always told us that we had to give everyone a chance in life. We love you, Harry, and if you’re gay, it won’t matter to us. It’s actually why Mum’s brothers were killed,” she said softly, and Harry’s eyes widened. “It was some gang that found out and gay-bashed them, and things ended badly...really badly.”

“I always thought it was something like cancer...”

“One of them had AIDS,” Ginny confirmed, her forehead puckering in sadness. “I guess the gang thought that they’d get it by just walking around the same neighborhood as they did. It was plastered all over the papers—_Prewett Boys Killed by Gang_. Mum hardly ever liked to talk about them, but she did when Charlie came out to us a year ago.”

“Charlie?” Harry asked, remembering Ginny’s second-eldest brother, who was a mythological creature writer who lived in Romania.

Ginny nodded. “Yeah. Found out when he was fourteen, but kept it hidden, because he was afraid of, well, anyone’s reaction, really.”

“Well, I’m glad to know that your parents won’t freak,” Harry responded, his voice quiet. “I just hope that everyone else’s reaction is positive.”

“The right people will react the right way, Harry,” Ginny assured him, stepping closer to him and pressing her lips to his cheek. “Well, I’d better go. Dean and I have planned to have dinner together tonight,” she said brightly, squeezing his hand for a moment before heading back inside the school.

Harry looked around the expansive school grounds then, thinking that he saw a flash of black somewhere close by, but he couldn’t be sure. Shaking his head, he pushed himself off from where he’d been standing, leaning against the side of the school. He pulled his school robes more closely against him then, and headed inside to face the dinner crowd in the canteen.

. . .

Harry was looking over his assignment for chemistry the following afternoon with Ron and Hermione in the school’s courtyard. It was a far more pleasant day out that day than the day before, and Hermione suggested that the library’s stuffiness wouldn’t benefit their studying. Ron was all for a change of scenery, but just couldn’t figure out the difference between inorganic, organic, physical, analytical, and biochemistry, and Harry merely looked over his notes from Professor Snape’s lecture on the topic from earlier that afternoon, while Hermione patiently went over it with Ron once again.

Neville, Dean, and Seamus had decided to work in the library that afternoon; having already completed their chemistry assignments, they were looking for topics on their first Russian literature essay of the year. Dolores Umbridge, their professor, was notoriously well-read on the subject, and would come down especially hard on the students if they misspelled the complicated names of the authors, book titles, or character names. Their first assignment was to read the first seventeen chapters in _Anna Karenina _by the end of October, and, while doing so, to take notes on the chapters, to the point when they were expected to be finished with the book just before their Christmas break, to then spend Christmas break researching appropriate topics for their essay on the book itself. The second book they were to read that year was _War and Peace_ and Hermione, of course, had already begun her chapter notes on it.

Harry looked up then as Ginny and Luna were discussing their notes on the other side of the courtyard; they were going over the drills for that weeks’ vocabulary for their second-year French class with Professor Lockhart, who nobody in Harry’s circle of friends particularly liked or were impressed by. Harry and Ron had only passed second-year French with Hermione’s help, and were barely keeping their heads above water for their third-year class that year. Harry was dreading the following year, knowing full well that if he did halfway-decently on the third-year French class that year, then advanced French would be in his future.

“Honestly, Ronald, just pick the one you’re most familiar with and go from there,” Hermione said to their friend, causing Harry to turn back to their conversation, fully aware that Hermione was growing slightly frustrated. “You can focus most of your experimental research on it, and you can even select it for your end-of-term essay.”

“That won’t help me during lectures when Snape badgers us to get answers right, Hermione, or for exams when I don’t know what the bloody hell to write during the long-form answers. Not to mention the experiments we actually do in class.”

“That’s why I always tell you to take notes when Professor Snape lectures us on new topics, Ronald, and why we have assigned reading,” Hermione reminded him.

Ron rolls his eyes. “Professor Snape can kiss my arse,” he muttered, crossing his arms and glaring at his textbook, simply titled _Modern Chemistry_.

Harry was about to say something comforting to his best mate when he, Ron, Hermione, and, from across the courtyard, Ginny and Luna were startled by the unexpected. The unexpected came in the form of Draco Malfoy, who was currently being tailed by his paramour, Pansy Parkinson, with whom he had been in a relationship with since the Yule Ball, their Christmas dance, which had happened two years previously. Pansy looked positively wretched, while Draco looked bemoaned over the entirety of the situation.

“I _told_ you, I can’t do this anymore!” Draco was shouting, as he made every effort to get away from her, and seemed sickened by the looks she was giving him.

“But Draco, I don’t understand!” Pansy whined back. “You haven’t given me a proper explanation to this total about-face! Our families were on holiday in Saint Germain this summer, and you said nothing about it then!”

Draco whirled around to face Pansy then, the expensive cut of his school robes twirling around him, and Pansy, not prepared for the display, immediately doubled back, giving her boyfriend the space he obviously so craved. “Pansy, we’d never work...”

She sighed, pulling her hands through her raven hair in a moment of frustration. “I thought we went over the fact that my snogging Blaise was just a moment of weakness, and you have my word that it’ll never happen again.”

“Pansy!” Draco shouted, and Pansy shrunk back from Draco further. “It’s not just about you snogging Blaise, and you know it!”

“Then enlighten me, Draco!” she cried out.

“You’re in love with Blaise, Blaise is in love with you. I’m not stopping the two of you from being together, so just _go_!”

“Not if it hurts you, Draco!” Pansy said, dashing forward then and taking his face into her hands and staring up at him, unblinking, with her dark brown eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you, I never did. And our parents love us together...”

“It can’t be about them, Pansy!” Draco said, yanking himself away from her.

“But, Draco...”

“Pansy, listen here—I don’t love you. I literally _can’t_ love you. It’s got nothing to do you with you, and everything to do with me!”

Pansy drew back then, shocked. “You... You’re not...?”

“I am,” Draco confirmed, swallowing slightly, a tremor going through him then, and he raised his eyes behind her then, and Harry realized that Neville, Dean, Seamus, and Blaise had filtered into the courtyard—which was just below the library and, due to the windows being open, had likely heard everything.

“Draco...”

“Pansy, I’m sorry,” Draco said, and dashed from the courtyard, and Harry was doubly shocked when Neville took off after him.

Pansy hesitated for a moment, before Blaise approached her and put an arm around her shoulders, and led her out of the courtyard.

“Well,” Dean said, and moved to sit beside Ginny on a bench across the courtyard, “do you need any help?” he asked her.

Ginny grinned up at him. “Perhaps you could assist us with our vocabulary. Is that all right with you, Luna?”

Luna nodded. “Oh, yes. It’s like being with friends.”

Dean looked shocked at the comment. “We are your friends, Luna.”

Luna smiled at him. “That’s nice,” she replied.

Immediately, Ron began gathering up his chemistry notes, textbook, and all the other school supplies around him.

“What’re you doin’, then?” Seamus asked.

“I’d like to leave,” Ron replied, flushing to his ears.

“What? Why?” Harry demanded.

“That happens to be my _sister_!” Ron hissed at him, and nodded in the direction of where Dean was still sitting beside Ginny.

“Honestly, Ronald, they’re not even holding hands,” Hermione informed him, rolling her eyes at his behavior. “They’re just studying.”

“_Je voudrais parler Français_,” Dean said to Luna.

“I would like to speak French,” Luna replied.

“That’s very good,” Dean told her. “_Une toux nocturne_,” Dean said to Ginny.

“Nighttime cough,” Ginny said with a grin.

Dean grinned at his girlfriend. “That’s correct,” he said, and leaned down to kiss her, tilting her chin up slightly with his index finger.

“And snogging,” Hermione said, quickly looking away.

“Yeah, now I’d _really_ like to leave,” Ron said, shaking his head as he shoved his things into his bag and got to his feet. “Come on, Seamus. Still need to work on Russian lit?”

“Yeah, considering that Neville and Dean left me alone,” he joked, and the pair walked off together laughing.

“Harry,” Hermione said, catching Harry’s eye as he lowered his gaze back to his notes, “is all this all right with you?”

“Ron and Seamus working on Russian lit? Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “Old toad-face certainly gives us too much work as it is...”

“No, I mean... Seeing Dean with Ginny,” she whispered.

Harry nodded, smiling at her. “Yeah. She told me that they were together.”

Hermione blinked. “And you’re all right with that? I mean, what with the two of you snogging last year after you ended things with Cho, and she Michael, Ron and I just thought that the two of you would...”

“I’m gay, Hermione,” Harry said, the confession falling out of his lips before he could call it back, and was shocked to see Hermione smiling at him. “What?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing,” she said quietly, turning back to her chemistry homework. “Just glad you’ve finally figured it out, is all.”

. . .

_Harry was lying on the floor of the living room; he had been polishing the furniture with that god-awful wood cleaner that Aunt Petunia insisted that he used. The smell would cake itself to his hands for days on end, for he wouldn’t be allowed to shower off afterwards. The furniture polishing was one of the most labor-intensive tasks at Number Four Privet Drive, and he was instructed to do it halfway after tending to the garden, and then complete the task after he had washed the dinner dishes._

_“Freak!” came the shout of Dudley, echoing in his ears as his cousin stomped over to him, lifting him effortlessly by the hair, and holding him aloft, the fronts of his trainers scuffing against the floor beneath him. “Wakey-wakey, freak!” he yelled._

_Harry’s eyes locked onto Dudley’s, and he found himself trembling in his grasp. “Dudley... I don’t want...”_

_Dudley laughed aloud then, clearly enthralled with Harry’s suffering, and shoved him back down onto the ground, causing Harry to grit his teeth as his knees slammed onto the floor. “I don’t give a rats’ arse what you want, ya freak!” he growled at him._

_Harry trembled all over, tears clouding his vision as he took in the expensive trainers that his cousin wore. “Please...don’t...” He begged._

_“Fine, I won’t beat you...today,” Dudley said, mulling over a proper punishment. “Instead, I’m feeling rather generous. Wouldn’t want to wreck that pretty face of yours.”_

_Harry looked up then, peering through the veil of tears behind his glasses. “What... What are you...?” he asked._

_Dudley grinned down at him, looking positively predatory then as his sausage-like fingers drifted to the belt on his jeans, which he swung out quickly, permitting the buckle to hit the floor. He then took the button out of its hole, and unzipped his fly, before pulling down his pants, leaving Harry to stare appallingly up at his boxers, to which he pulled them down, too._

_“Mum and Dad went to a film,” Dudley declared, grabbing ahold of Harry by his shoulder and yanking him closer. “They won’t be here to see how pathetic you are.”_

_“Dudley, please,” Harry begged, trembling as Dudley stroked himself to life, and nearly hit him in the face with his erect member. “Please...no...”_

_Dudley, losing patience, grabbed ahold of Harry’s shoulders then, and turned him around, and proceeded to slam him up against the wall, just beside the cupboard under the stairs. “When are you going to get it into that thick head of yours, cousin,” he growled in Harry’s ear, his hot breath on his skin causing bile to rise in his throat, “that there is no such thing as ‘no’?”_

_Harry swallowed then, trying to smack Dudley’s hands away and wriggle out of his grip, but Dudley was stronger, and manhandled Harry into submission, pulling down his cousin’s jeans and slammed his head up against the wall for good measure. Harry could taste copper as fresh tears escaped his eyes, but said nothing more as Dudley slammed him further into the wall, taking ahold of his hips and moving him into position, entering him without hesitation, or any form of preparation..._

“No!” Harry screamed, the word ripping from his throat as he woke up. He was relieved that his house and year-mates, which included Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus, were all notorious heavy sleepers, so whenever he cried out in the night after an inevitable nightmare, none of them seemed to be disturbed.

Harry sighed, pushing his fringe off his forehead, not surprised to find that it was dripping with sweat. He shook his head, pushing himself out of bed and making his way to the door of their dormitory, wanting to get some air, somehow. He navigated his way down the staircase, passing the female and the rest of the male dorms before exiting the common area, and walking down the cool corridors of Wartsmoth.

Harry was wearing sleep pants and a T-shirt for the England cricket team, both of which Remus had bought for him before the start of the school year. He was very thankful for Remus for getting him clothes, as well as providing a home for him, and too many other things to count. He crossed the long hallway outside the dorms and came to a stone window seat, staring out at the blackness of the night, feeling slightly better, although the nightmare still proceeded to eat away at his mind in a successful manner.

“Mr. Potter.”

Normally, in years’ past especially, hearing that voice address him so formally and with such contempt would set his teeth on edge but not now, not now. Harry turned slowly towards the voice, knowing full well that it was Professor Snape, and didn’t bother to wipe the fresh set of tears from his cheek. “I’m sorry. I know it’s after curfew professor. I just... I couldn’t sleep and I really didn’t want to be in there right now...”

Severus was shocked at the demeanor of young Potter, not to mention the fact that his apology seemed genuine. He stepped slightly closer then, and was not at all surprised when Potter shrunk back slightly from him. In all Potter’s years there, Severus had treated him horribly, he knew that, and now, it seemed, the time had come to make amends, somehow.

“Come on, Potter, I’m not going to report you,” Severus said, knowing that he had to put up a physical barrier of some kind; he didn’t want Potter to believe that they were suddenly best mates or anything like that. “I know you’ve had a difficult go of it, especially with all the changes this summer. I think that a little consideration can be given here, surely.”

Harry blinked, surprised that his chemistry professor was being so reasonable, and desperately scrubbed the tears from his eyes. “What is it you know?”

Severus swallowed. “I know what Professor Lupin, Professor McGonagall, and Headmaster Dumbledore have deemed appropriate for the staff to know.”

Harry mulled that over for a moment, knowing very well that that statement could have a great many meanings. “What have they deemed appropriate for the staff to know?” he asked, knowing full well that he should be privy to it.

“That Professor Lupin was given custody of you, which is his right, as one of your godfathers, appointed by your parents when you were a child,” Severus replied.

Harry sighed, leaning back up against the stone wall behind him; it was cool on his back, which caused his entire body temperature to go down, thus permitting him to relax. “Well, I suppose that’s not too personal,” he replied.

Severus noticed that he had crossed his arms entirely around himself, almost as if he wished to shield himself from potential danger. “You’re having difficulty sleeping.” It wasn’t a question, and yet Severus felt as if a direct approach would be appropriate here.

“Is it that obvious?” Harry asked, raising his green eyes to meet Severus’s black ones, and it was plain to see the deep purple circles beneath them.

Severus sighed; he knew what it was like to spend hours on end, staring at the ceiling, listening to the minutes tick by, and having the clock chime hour after hour in the darkness. “Come on, then, Potter,” he said, turning around, his robes pluming around him, and Harry, surprised, pushed himself up from the wall he was leaning against and moved to follow him.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” he asked, his voice small as they headed down a staircase, to the basement of the school, where Severus’s chambers were.

“I hardly know to what you are referring, Potter, as you didn’t have the decency to be specific just now,” he said, more gently than he would have in times past.

Harry swallowed, the stone floor cool on his feet as they approached an old-looking door, and he remembered hearing upon his school tour that the basement of the school had been preserved from its original construction, back in the early-1800’s. “You were outside, almost a week ago, when I was talking to Ginny.”

“Ginevra Weasley?” Severus asked, unlocking the door before them and stepping inside, moving to the side quickly so as to permit Harry to slip in behind him.

“Yeah, she goes by Ginny,” Harry corrected him gently, marveling at how soft the carpet he now stood on was. It was decorated ornately, with black, silver, and green patterns, which slowly got more and more complex the deeper they went into the carpet. “This is beautiful,” Harry said as he raised his eyes upwards to his chemistry professor, who was staring at him for a moment with a look of slight surprise.

“Thank you,” Severus replied, suddenly remembering what he wanted to do, and breezed past Potter and into the little kitchenette attached to his personal living room. “It’s Turkish.”

“I’ve never been to Turkey,” Harry said softly, tracing his toes onto the lovely patterns below his feet. “Only to England and Scotland. And I didn’t leave England until I was eleven, to start school down here.” He hesitated for a moment, almost as if he was wondering if he was allowed to continue the conversation. “Have you been?”

“Been where, Potter?” Severus asked, gathering a box of tea from his cupboard—chamomile, beneficial for sleep—and two mugs.

“To Turkey,” Harry replied. “Have you been to Turkey?”

“No, I haven’t been,” Severus replied, filling his tea kettle with water from the sink on the other side of the kitchen. “I have been to Germany a number of times, and France. I don’t have much time for traveling, though, I’m afraid.”

“You seem like you could use a vacation,” Harry mused, moving towards the opposite end of the carpet, before turning to stare into the flames of the fireplace behind him.

“Why would you assume that, Potter?” Severus asked, lighting up the flame beneath the kettle on the stove.

“Well, perhaps it’s why you don’t seem... You don’t seem very happy, professor,” Harry said at last, his voice not cruel or condemning in any way; in fact, it sounded sad.

“There is no reason for me to be,” Severus said simply, shrugging his shoulders for a moment as he dropped a tea bag into each mug.

Harry turned, watching the professor’s movements from over his shoulder. “Why? You seem to be doing well at your job. Was it not your chosen profession?”

Severus shrugged. “Prior generations preached that you get high marks while in school, and select a career in which you’re capable.”

Harry scoffed. “Sounds much like today. Besides, you’re not that much older than me. You are the same age as Remus, aren’t you? And my parents...”

“Yes, we’re the same age,” Severus confirmed, lifting the kettle off the stove as it whistled, and poured the hot water into the mugs. “Do you take milk or sugar with your tea?”

“Both, please. Two sugars,” Harry replied.

Severus nodded, not adding either to his mug, before he brought the two steaming mugs of tea into the living room, and moving towards the couch. “Feel free to sit down, Potter.”

Harry did as instructed, reaching out and taking the proffered mug of tea the moment he was sitting comfortably. “Thank you, sir,” he said softly.

Severus nodded, watching Harry sip his tea through a layer of steam. “This is chamomile tea, Potter,” he explained, and Harry looked up at him. “Consider getting some; have Remus provide you with some.”

“Oh, right,” Harry said, nodding as he took another sip of tea.

Severus’s brow puckered slightly then. “What is it now, Potter?”

Harry sighed. “Well, I know I should be grateful to you, and I am. You’re sacrificing your evening to provide a cup of tea and conversation to your least-favorite person on the face of the earth. You’re a better person than I gave you credit for, sir.”

“You’re not my least-favorite person, Potter. I know I don’t always show it, but trust me. I don’t loathe you completely.”

Harry blinked, raising his eyebrows. “Who is your least-favorite person, then, sir?”

“Tom Riddle,” Severus growled.

Harry nearly dropped the mug in shock, before setting it aside. “Wait. You know him?” he asked, shaking his head.

Severus sighed. “Yes. He took someone very dear to me, and I cannot forgive him for that, I simply cannot.”

Harry nodded, not wanting to push it out of him, so he thought it best to let the subject drop entirely. “Was it you?” he asked, lifting up his mug again. “Six days ago, outside the school, when I was talking to Ginny. I thought I saw...”

“Saw what, Potter?”

“Your robes,” Harry replied, shaking his head, knowing just how silly it sounded. “Forget it. I didn’t realize how ridiculous it was.”

Severus gave a slight nod, despite the fact that he was watching the two of them, and he couldn’t understand why it had rubbed him the wrong way when the youngest Weasley had kissed him on the cheek before leaving him.

“So, Remus, Professor McGonagall, and Headmaster Dumbledore spoke at the staff meeting about Remus getting custody of me?”

Severus nodded, knowing that they would eventually circle back to this particular line of conversation. “They did.”

Harry swallowed. “And do you know why he was given custody of me, professor?”

“I know that there were clear signs of various forms of abuse from the environment which the courts deemed appropriate for you to live in,” Severus replied, his tone a steady one.

Harry leaned away from Severus. “Wait. You knew I was being abused?”

Severus sighed. “In all honesty, Potter, most of the staff was aware.”

Harry set aside his cup of tea, now nearly finished, a second time. “Remus only called attention to it because I showed up with a broken jaw here when I was thirteen.”

Severus put down his own mug. “Potter, you’ve got to understand. None of us had any legal recourse to get you out of there. Had we know the extent of it—”

“The extent?!” Harry demanded, lashing out now. He didn’t want to believe that Remus had betrayed his trust and actually told them that Dudley had—

“We know about what your uncle did to you,” Severus said softly to him then. “Trust me when I tell this to you, Potter, that you’re not alone—”

“You don’t know a damn thing, Snape!” Harry growled, launching to his feet, and hating it that his voice was shaking. “You haven’t bothered to know a damn thing about me, other than what you believe to be true!”

“Potter,” Severus said, slowly getting to his feet.

“No!” Harry shouted at him. “You hated my dad, I know you did, and you put that hate onto me because you felt justified in doing so! Well, I’m so tired of being hated! I _hate_ being hated,” he whispered then, his voice breaking at the end then as he felt the hot tears flowing down his face once more, before he turned on his heel and fled from the room.

. . .

Harry remembered Dora’s kind words as he fled from the interview; they arranged for it to be held just before curfew but now, Harry wanted to put as much distance between there and where he was at the moment. The dam had finally broken, because he just didn’t want to keep talking about it, and he’d given Dora everything she’d wanted. He was shaking now as he found himself before a familiar door in the basement at Wartsmoth, and pounded on it quickly, knowing full well he was shaking from head to toe.

_“And your cousin would wait until your aunt and uncle were gone?”_

_“No witnesses that way, he said,” Harry replied, deliberately not looking at Dora as his nails bit into the palms of his hands._

_“And what had happened the first time, leading up to the situation?”_

_“Aunt Petunia had backhanded me because I didn’t finish polishing the furniture halfway before it was time to cook dinner,” he replied, still stoic. “I must’ve landed wrong, because, the next thing I knew, Dudley was waking me up, telling me that they were at a film.”_

_“Did Dudley say anything else to you?”_

_“He said he was feeling generous, and he wouldn’t be beating me up that night,” Harry went on, his stomach rolling. “He also said my face was pretty, and he didn’t want to do any damage to it if he didn’t have to...”_

_“And that was when it happened?”_

_“More or less, he didn’t say much else, other than to inform me that ‘no’ didn’t exist. Not with him, anyway...”_

_“So, you definitely said ‘no’ to the act?”_

_Harry nodded; the movement jerked his neck slightly, bringing him back to reality. “Yeah. I would always say no, and beg them, if all else failed. I hate to beg,” he muttered bitterly, tears flowing down his face. “Makes me feel even less than I already do...”_

Harry pounded on the door before he lost his nerve, still trembling, and kept his eyes raised, green soon meeting black as Severus answered the door.

“Potter? What’s going on?”

“Please,” Harry whispered, and Severus was shocked at his demeanor. “I know I didn’t leave us on the best of terms last time we were alone last week but, please... Please let me come in. I need someone to talk to who won’t judge me.”

Severus crossed his arms. “Don’t you have friends for that, Potter?”

“You said I wasn’t alone,” Harry replied, his voice firm beneath the trembling. “Or was that just another lie fed to me by someone meant to protect me?”

Severus sighed, before moving out of the way, permitting Harry to cross the threshold and into his private quarters again. “What happened?”

“Chief Inspector Tonks from Scotland Yard came to see me for an interview,” Harry said quietly, and Severus sighed.

“Ah, yes. Headmaster Dumbledore informed us that that was happening this evening, and that it was not to be public knowledge, nor were the two of you to be disturbed.”

“Not physically we weren’t,” Harry muttered.

“What are you talking about? Did she upset you?”

“It wasn’t her fault,” Harry replied, still not turning to look at Severus. “She was just doing her job by asking me all these questions. We... We got to a difficult bit, and she told me that we could stop if I wanted to—she always does—but I just wanted to get through it...”

“What was so difficult about it?”

Harry swallowed, shutting his eyes and hunching his shoulders; he was deliberately making himself smaller, Severus noticed, a trait he had had at that age to deal with all the atrocities that had happened to him. “My cousin,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I told the Chief Inspector tonight that my cousin raped me...”

Severus had to mask the low growl in his throat at the revelation. “When did this happen?” he asked him. “Was it a one-time thing, or ongoing?”

“Ongoing,” Harry whispered. “It... It happened right after Riddle ordered the murder of Cedric Diggory when I was fourteen, the one I watched. He... Dudley liked it whenever I was sad about something, and he took advantage of it. I was distracted, because I was trying to hurry to get a chore done, and, when I didn’t do it fast enough, or well enough, my aunt hit me, and I fell down, knocked unconscious. My cousin woke me up, told me that my aunt and uncle had gone to some film, and that’s when he...”

“Riddle got another life sentence for that crime,” Severus said softly from behind him, “but it sounds to me as if that cousin of yours deserves one as well.”

Harry nodded, and Severus could hear him sobbing quietly. “He would do it whenever he could get his hands on me, but only when people weren’t around. He... He knew about me, but he didn’t want people to think he was that way, too...”

Severus blinked; did the boy just come out to him? As he was in a position of authority over teenagers, he had dealt with this plenty of times, so it didn’t faze him as much as it did in times past, but just to be sure... “Potter, do you mean to tell me that you’re...?”

“Gay? Yeah,” Harry replied, his voice cracking slightly then. “Except Dudley called me a faggot and said that other people would think he was one, too, if he kept doing what he was doing in front of people...”

Severus swallowed, remembering the word was often thrown around as he grew up, in particular towards him, more than once, more than twice. “Did anything else...?”

“The straw that broke the camel’s back was when Uncle Vernon caught us,” Harry went on then, opening his eyes and staring out the window of Severus’s kitchenette. “He... He took off his belt to me and gave me the worst beating I’d ever gotten in all my years there. Started using the damn thing on me when I was four, and I burned his bacon,” he muttered, his tone bitter. “Then, he told Dudley to leave, and Aunt Petunia took him out of the house—I don’t even know where they ended up going. Then, Uncle Vernon did what Dudley had always done to me, except he had his belt in his hand then entire time, and made lashings in my back while he did it.” Harry trembled as he spoke. “Once he left me, bleeding, he left the house, and I managed to crawl to the landline and call 999. I just couldn’t take any of it anymore...”

“So, you saved yourself, then?” Severus asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Harry turned around then, looking at him over his shoulder. “Yeah, I guess. I guess one could say that,” he replied.

The two stared at one another for several moments, all in silence, not wanting to be the first one to break the gaze. Even though there had been animosity between the two of them for the past five years, both knew that things had changed that night, given that Harry had had a crisis, and had gone running to Severus about it. And while both also knew that things could potentially cross a line, neither one of them was in the proper frame of mind to make the first move—given Harry’s turmoil and Severus’s reluctance to break the bond they’d inexplicably forged. And, as green continued meeting black, they were content with the knowledge that something had shifted between them, but neither one knew just how far the other would go.

“Tea, Harry?” Severus asked.

Harry blinked. “You called me ‘Harry’.”

Severus swallowed. “I did.”

Harry gave a small smile to him then. “I would like that,” he replied.


	4. Don’t Forsake Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, you saved yourself, then?” Severus asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
> 
> Harry turned around then, looking at him over his shoulder. “Yeah, I guess. I guess one could say that,” he replied.
> 
> The two stared at one another for several moments, all in silence, not wanting to be the first one to break the gaze. Even though there had been animosity between the two of them for the past five years, both knew that things had changed that night, given that Harry had had a crisis, and had gone running to Severus about it. And while both also knew that things could potentially cross a line, neither one of them was in the proper frame of mind to make the first move—given Harry’s turmoil and Severus’s reluctance to break the bond they’d inexplicably forged. And, as green continued meeting black, they were content with the knowledge that something had shifted between them, but neither one knew just how far the other would go.
> 
> “Tea, Harry?” Severus asked.
> 
> Harry blinked. “You called me ‘Harry’.”
> 
> Severus swallowed. “I did.”
> 
> Harry gave a small smile to him then. “I would like that,” he replied.

Harry found it difficult to keep his eyes open during the lecture about organic versus inorganic chemistry two weeks after he’d poured his heart out to Severus. He hadn’t had any nightmares since then, as he’d asked Remus to buy him some chamomile tea, and his godfather had also gotten some Melatonin for him. It helped keep him asleep at night, for about a week, until he ran out of tea and his body got used to the pills.

“Potter!” Severus snapped, slamming his palm down onto the lab table in front of Harry, who immediately shrunk back, his eyes wide, as he stared up at him. “Explain to me the difference of organic versus inorganic chemistry.”

“Inorganic compounds contain carbon atoms, and organic doesn’t?” he asked.

Severus gritted his teeth in a moment of frustration, before he yanked Harry’s textbook into his hands, and flipped to the chapter detailing the differences between the two kind of chemistry and slammed the book back in front of the teenager. “Would you kindly indulge the class on reading this sentence aloud?” he growled, jabbing at the page with his finger.

Harry swallowed, lowering his eyes to the black text upon the page, slightly jumbled due to the age of the printing press, and tried not to scream. “The main difference is in the presence of a carbon atom; organic compounds will contain a carbon atom, and often a hydrogen atom, to form hydrocarbons,” he began, “while almost all inorganic compounds do not contain either of those two atoms. Meanwhile, inorganic compounds include the salts, metals, and other elemental compounds.”

“You’ve successfully managed to mix up two different kinds of chemistry,” Severus said, turning away from his lab table with annoyance. “You will stay after class with me today, Potter, and discuss why you think that chemistry is unnecessary.”

Harry kept his mouth shut, and did his best to listen to the lecture until the hour ran out, and said goodbye to Ron and Hermione, and waved off Neville, Dean, and Seamus. He didn’t even bother putting his textbook into his bag; for all he knew, his professor would want to damn him for not catching up on the extra credit reading he assigned each week. Instead, Harry placed his palms upon the cool surface of the desk, hoping that the coolness in temperature would manage to calm him down somehow.

Severus came towards Harry’s desk again once the final students had left the classroom, and slammed a stack of papers upon it, right under Harry’s nose. “Here is your latest essay that you elected to write for this class, Potter. As you can see, you scored below a thirty-nine, meaning that you failed it.”

Harry took ahold of the edges of the essay, feeling his hands shaking as he took in the derogatory comments made by his professor, all in his spindly handwriting, written scathingly with red pen in every available margin space. “Guess I should expect all this from you, shouldn’t I?” he demanded under his breath, hating that his voice was shaking as he addressed the man, who had been so kind to him two weeks ago, but now...

“What the devil are you talking about, Potter?”

Harry turned his essay loose, but the crinkles upon its edges remained. “You, and your treatment of me,” he declared. “Nothing’s changed, really.”

“Potter...”

“No!” Harry said, launching to his feet then, gazing at his professor in a moment of courage. “I am not Potter. I’m Harry. _Harry_,” he said, slamming a fist to his chest.

“Potter,” Severus tried again.

“Was it all just a lie?” Harry whispered then, searching Severus’s face for something, anything, which would hold the key to the man who had been so wonderful to him. “Were you just pretending to know what I’d been through? Did Headmaster Dumbledore ask you to talk to me, to get more information to Scotland Yard?”

“The headmaster didn’t ask me to...”

“God, I was such an idiot,” Harry said, stomping away from his desk, leaving his crumpled essay and textbook upon its surface, and his bag resting beside it. “I actually thought that I’d found an ally in you. But, I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

“Potter, you don’t know what you’re...”

“I know plenty,” Harry countered, his voice shaking slightly at the declaration. “Like that you were just letting me go on and on, not because you felt sorry for me, but because you’ve really hated me all this time. Probably liked hearing about me in pain...”

“That’s enough!” Severus shouted, slamming his fist onto the surface of the desk. “I won’t stand here and listen to outlandish lies—”

“Or what? What?” Harry demanded of him, stepping closer, coming to the bridge of his professor’s nose, as green met black. “What could you possibly do to me at this point, Severus? I am broken, wrecked beyond repair, with no hopes for a future, if I go on like this. What could you possibly do to ruin me further?”

“I won’t have this conversation, Potter. Not with you.”

“Am I really that sullied that you don’t even want to insinuate, professor?” Harry whispered, feeling his heart pounding in his chest, due to Severus’s closeness to him. “Life’s just a game, at the end of the day. Isn’t that right, professor?”

“This is not a game, Potter. What you’re insinuating is very serious.”

“I’m done with drama,” Harry told him.

Severus nodded. “That would be a wise choice, Potter.”

Harry slowly dragged his tongue along his lips then, and noted that Severus stiffened at the gesture, which was the opposite of coy. “I’ve never been that wise, professor,” Harry declared then, closing the distance between the two of them.

The first time Harry found himself tasting Severus, he quickly found that he never wanted the encounter to end. Sure, he was damaged, broken, ruined—if perhaps only in his own eyes—but he just couldn’t reject the unspoken thing between the two of them any longer. He knew that a line would eventually be crossed—he could feel it just beneath the surface that evening, two weeks before—but he didn’t know he’d be the one to actually do it.

Severus, on the other hand, was in a full-state of fear, with a smattering of being over the moon somewhere lodged in that feeling. He felt a tremor flowing through him as he permitted Harry’s tongue access into his mouth, and had to pull back a moan as the teen’s hands found his hips, pulling him flush against him. He wanted this, craved this, was desperate for it, but, then, the slap of reality set in, and he forced himself away from the younger man.

“This... No,” he said at last, shaking his head at him. “This is wrong,” he whispered, forcing himself not to look at Harry as he turned around and fled from the room.

. . . 

October dawned, and every opportunity he could, Harry would attempt to get a few words out of Severus, but nothing was forthcoming from the chemistry professor. All he would get were dark eyes and sad looks, and it physically broke Harry inside that communication seemed to be off the table for good. Perhaps this was the way it was always supposed to be; he’d been told how unwanted he was from the time he was a child, and now, the one time he’d ever wanted something so desperately that it hurt, he was rejected.

“Want to play a game of cricket, mate?” Ron asked, sidling up to Harry one Saturday afternoon, after they’d done some research on their English paper, to be done on _Nineteen Eighty-Four_ by George Orwell.

Harry shook his head, finding that all he could think about was clocks striking thirteen as they made their way back to the dorm common area. “Not right now, Ron.”

“Oh, all right. Chess, then?”

Harry shook his head again. “Think I’ll just catch up on some reading.”

“You _actually_ want to read _that_?” Ron demanded, looking at the chemistry textbook that Harry was clutching in his arm. “It’s bloody boring, is what it is!”

“You saw my grade on my written assignment, Ron,” Harry said, forcing himself to keep his tone patient with his best friend. “I really need to figure out the differences between inorganic versus organic chemistry, and be able to tell them apart, if I’m to keep my head above water in regards to the class...”

“I think doing some extra reading is a splendid idea, Harry,” Hermione said, shooting him a bright smile and an encouraging nod. “I’ve never seen you take something so seriously, other than football. It’s nice to see you turning to academics.”

Harry smiled at her. “Thanks, Hermione.”

“You need a distraction to get you out of this funk you’re in,” Ron declared, before reaching out and swiping the textbook away from Harry, and holding it over his head.

“Stop that!” Harry shouted then, as if Ron had taken away his ability to breathe. He reached out then and attempted to make a grab for it, but Ron had several inches on him, and he was virtually helpless against him. “Give it back!”

“Ron!” Hermione cried out. “Give it back to him!”

“Chemistry’s not going to help you, Harry!” Ron said, his voice firm as he continued to hold the book out of Harry’s reach.

“Ron, please,” Harry begged, panting as the panic filled him to the brim. The handwriting in the margins of the textbook had been calming towards him, like a true friend, almost as if a past user of the book had been using it not only to help him with experiments, but also, in a way, as a personal diary, detailing his struggles with, well, everything. “Give it back, Ron, please. I just want it back...”

“Ron,” Hermione whispered then, seeing the reaction that Harry was giving to Ron’s bullying. “I think you should...”

“No, ‘Mione,” Ron said, keeping an eye on Harry as he continued to hold the book aloft. “Don’t be such a bloody git, Harry! Grab your book if you want it so badly!”

“Ron,” Harry said softly, his voice trembling as he attempted to figure out a way out of this rather traumatizing situation. “Please...”

“Or what?” Ron demanded.

Harry felt a combination of rage and devastation flowing through him. “I’m literally begging you right now, Ron! I just... I just want to...”

“What?” Ron asked. “Run to bed? That’s all you’ve been doing, Harry, if you’re outside of the classroom. You’re barely scraping through your assignments, you’re not paying attention when Hermione helps us study, and you’re not eating! It’s a wonder that you’re still standing—”

“Ronald!” Hermione shouted, seeing the tears threatening to escape from Harry’s eyes. “That’s enough!”

Harry stared, bleary-eyed, at Ron, before he reached out and punched him in the jaw as hard as he could, which caused him to drop the book, and Harry to snatch it up, holding it against his chest like a breast plate of armor. “You really shouldn’t say things like that to me, especially about shit you won’t ever understand,” he told him, trying to keep his voice firm, as he fled up the stairs to his dorm room.

“We can’t just demand to know what’s going on with him, Ronald,” Hermione chastised him, crossing her arms as they heard the dormitory door slam behind Harry, and watched as Ron rubbed his jaw, which was slightly inflamed from the punch. “He might pull away from us then, and we’ll never get an answer out of him.”

“‘Mione, try to understand,” Ron replied, selecting an overstuffed armchair and throwing himself down into it. “I mean, his grades’ll start slipping soon enough, and I know that even you won’t do his assignments forever.”

Hermione rolled her brown eyes, settling herself in a second armchair, but in a far more delicate manner than Ron had a moment ago. “I hardly mind helping him out while he’s in this rut he’s found himself in, Ronald.”

“You’re always encouraging us to get good grades, and that should apply to Harry, too, even though he’s in this rut,” Ron countered.

“But you’re actually suggesting pushing him, and that’s not right either,” Hermione told him, her voice gentle.

“Last I checked, Hermione, your parents were dentists, not proper doctors,” Ron said, rolling his eyes at her.

“Yes, and your father’s a museum curator, and your mum’s a housewife,” Hermione said, and threw up her hands. “We’re not discussing our parents’ occupations here, Ronald. We’re talking about our best friend, and how we could push him even closer to the edge if we push him too hard into giving us an explanation for his distancing us.”

“Charlie distanced himself from us, back when I was six,” Ron said softly. “One of my first memories of him, given the age difference, and all...”

“What happened?” Hermione asked him.

Ron sighed. “Mum told me and Ginny later that he was gay,” he said softly. “Took us a while to really understand what that meant.”

Hermione swallowed. “Were you all right with it, though?”

Ron shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me, as long as you’re happy.” He turned around then, looking up the stairs where Harry had disappeared a few moments ago. “Think that’s what’s going on with him, ‘Mione? Think Harry’s gay?”

Hermione sighed. “I think there could be a great many things going on that we don’t know about, Ron. Remus wouldn’t even tell us what made him win his suit for custody. All I know is, it had to be bad enough, that malnourishment and a broken jaw in years’ past had the authorities turning a blind eye to it.”

Ron shook his head. “They needed to step in sooner.”

Hermione’s eyes locked with his. “You don’t need to tell me that,” she said softly.

. . .

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Ron warned as he and Hermione remained behind after chemistry class one day.

“Let’s just see,” Hermione said, and got to her feet, holding her books against her chest, the ones that she couldn’t fit into her bag, even if she tried. “Excuse me, Professor Snape?” she asked, her voice kind.

Severus turned around then in a sweep of black robes and narrowed his eyes slightly at them. “I am quite sure that you’re aware that my physics class begins quite soon,” he said.

“In less than an hour, I know, professor,” Hermione said quickly. “It’s just that, we were concerned...”

“About your grades, Miss Granger? Well, allow me to put your mind at ease. You are doing rather spectacularly in this class. It seems as though chemistry has met its match with you. Now, if that’s all—”

“We’re here about Harry!” Ron shouted then, growing exasperated. “Sir,” he added, when Severus raised a dark eyebrow at him.

Severus swallowed. “What about Potter, Mr. Weasley?”

“He’s been rather distant towards us of late, professor,” Hermione said, and Severus turned his gaze back on her again.

Severus sneered. “He is a teenager, Miss Granger. Distance is his middle name.”

“Not usually,” Ron countered, crossing his arms over the god-awful maroon-colored sweater he was obligated to wear, given that there was a golden ‘R’ stitched upon it. “Harry usually tells us if something’s bothering him.”

“Exactly,” Hermione continued, “but ever since Professor Lupin got custody of him, sir, even he agrees that Harry has been more closed-off than ever.”

“What makes you think that I—?”

“Care?” Hermione asked, and something flashed from behind Severus’s eyes. “I would not wish to presume anything about you, professor, for the intimacies in your private life are hardly any of our business. However,” she went on, noticing that Severus was about to interrupt her, “as one of our professors, it is your duty to make sure that all students are safe and well.”

Severus swallowed. “And that is your fear, then? That Potter is not safe?”

“Or well,” Ron said, nodding his head. “Last week, I tried to snap him out of it, and all he wanted to do was go upstairs and read our chemistry textbook.”

Severus shrugged. “I’m sure he informed you about his less-than satisfactory grade he received on his last paper,” he drawled. “Naturally, catching up on his reading would be a good activity to participate in thereafter.”

“Yes, but, sir, Harry had a panic attack when Ron snatched the book away from him,” Hermione said quickly, and Severus’s eyes widened. “It’s an older book, sir, so perhaps he has some sentimental value attached to it...”

“But he was holding the bloody thing like it was a bible or something!” Ron shouted.

“Language, Mr. Weasley,” Severus warned, and Ron promptly shut his mouth. “What makes you think it is an older edition textbook, Miss Granger?”

“Our current edition textbooks are toned with a Persian blue, professor,” Hermione said patiently to him, “while Harry’s copy is more of a cobalt.”

Severus blinked. “You are an expert on colors now, Miss Granger?”

Hermione laughed. “When you’re an only child with parents who run a successful dental practice, sir, they find many after-school activities for you. Ballet, debate club, Latin, Spanish, and one year was painting.”

“And the other years, Miss Granger?”

“It went ballet, debate club, Latin, Spanish, painting, cooking, and martial arts,” Hermione told him in a patient manner. “But, as you can see, Harry’s devotion to his textbook is another matter entirely. I mean, he practically sleeps with it, professor!”

“He does,” Ron confirms, and Hermione and Severus promptly turn to look over at him. “We share a dorm room, sir, and it’s an odd sight to see a textbook in one’s bed.”

“Not mine,” Hermione said with a huff, crossing her arms.

“I think you are the rare exception to that rule, Miss Granger,” Severus replied. “Very well, then, if you are so concerned, I will send Potter a note, letting him know that I am available to talk. Is that acceptable?”

“Oh thank you, thank you, professor!” Hermione said, grinning up at him before she made a grab for Ron’s arm and pulled them from the classroom.

. . . 

“Uncle Vernon used the belt for years,” Harry said quietly to Dora, clutching at the mug of chamomile tea, as they both sat in Remus’s rooms, which he’d vacated for their conversation. “I would have to say I was four when he first used it.”

“You mentioned you were two when you started your chores?”

Harry nodded. “Yes.”

“So, you’d been doing the inappropriate chores for two years before the belt was used?” Dora asked, just to recap.

Harry swallowed. “Yeah, that’s right,” he replied, lifting the mug of tea to his lips, the steam tickling his nose as he sipped it.

“What happened leading up to Vernon using the belt for the first time?”

Harry shuddered, staring into the mug of tea, the swirls of steam fogging up his glasses, permitting his thoughts to return to that day.

_“Bring my coffee, boy,” came the demand, like clockwork, like it always did, as his uncle read the newspaper._

_“Yes, Uncle Vernon,” Harry said quickly, simultaneously flipping bacon and sausages in a fry pan on the stove, the burn marks on the underside of his arms a constant now. He left the bacon and sausages to fry on a low setting, before he took the coffee pot, and poured the steamy brown liquid into his uncle’s favorite mug, attempting to ignore the stench and sight of sludge inside the pristine white mug. He dragged his tongue over his lower lip in a moment of concentration, not wanting either the pot or the mug to shatter. Turning, he returned the pot to its place on the counter and lifted the mug, before stepping towards his uncle._

_“Hurry up!” his uncle shouted again._

_Harry’s gasp escaped his lips as the mug fell to the floor, shattering instantly upon contact with the poorly-patterned linoleum, the drink liquid splashing mostly on Vernon Dursley, but the rest catching at Harry’s exposed neck. “Sorry, sorry, Uncle Vernon!” Harry shouted._

_“You will be sorry, you freakish boy!” his uncle shouted, yanking Harry by the arm and hauling him into his lap, using his other hand to undo his belt, the buckle and exposed line of leather slapping Harry in the face and head. “Quiet!” he growled amid Harry’s protests, and promptly yanked his nephew’s oversized trousers down, and promptly used the belt, as hard as he could, on the exposed skin..._

“Harry?”

“I ended up burning the bacon and sausages,” Harry recounted quietly. “Uncle Vernon really wasn’t happy about that.” He sat back on Remus’s couch, lowering his legs when Valencia made her presence known, and pawed her way into his lap. “Accused me of wanting him to starve to death, when all he was meant to do was provide to for family...” Harry cut himself off then, his tone bitter, as he buried his fingers into Valencia’s blackish-blue fur.

“And he sold drills, correct?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, forcing breath in and out of his lungs. “He had a couple over for dinner because he wanted to sell some to their company. The family dog got into my room and ended up chasing me down the stairs—which was rather brilliant, given how old he was at the time—and ended up upsetting the entire evening. The poor dog was so senile that of course he couldn’t be blamed for the night being ruined, so Uncle Vernon got better-quality locks for my bedroom and put bars on my window.”

“He say why he installed the bars?” Dora asked.

Harry swallowed. “The house was my prison,” he stated, “and my room was my cell.”

“What happened to the dog?”

“Ripper,” Harry replied bitterly. “Not that I was ever close to the thing, but having Aunt Marge’s dog use it as his personal chew toy, to the point of death, was very unsettling.”

Dora sighed, lowering her pen. “I know this might be difficult for you, Harry, but do you remember anything before you came to the Dursley’s?”

Harry sighed. “A gun?”

Dora blinked. “Who had a gun? Did your parents own one?”

Harry shook his head. “No. From everything Sirius and Remus have told me, they hated guns and stuck up for anti-gun laws at every chance they got...”

“So, whose gun was it?” Dora asked.

“Riddle’s,” Harry said softly.

Dora nearly choked as she sipped her tea. “What...?”

“I remember the night they died,” Harry said softly. “Riddle bypassed the high-tech security system they’d put in place, and knocked down the front door. A lot of reports have him as average build, but I guess he’d been working out, or was on steroids or something, because he nearly tore the thing off its hinges,” he whispered. “Dad... He told Mum to take me and get me out of there. It was late, and I was already in bed, but I heard him shout at her. She ran upstairs to my room, and I heard a gun going off—_pop_. Then Mum burst into my room and grabbed me, and was about to leave with me, but Riddle broke into my room next, telling her to hold still so that he could shoot her, but she begged to be allowed to leave and take me with her... He didn’t like that,” Harry told her. “Then, he shot her, _pop_...but...”

“But what?” Dora asked.

Harry lifted up his fringe then, and the healed-over bullet wound glared back at her. “They rushed me to the hospital, after he shot me,” he whispered. “Wasn’t expected to survive the night, due to the trajectory, where I was shot, and the blood loss. They just gave me all the blood they could, and hoped for the best.”

“How did you even...?”

“No idea,” Harry replied. “I had a five-percent chance of survival, with a three-percent chance of a good quality of life afterwards. One activity outside the house I was permitted was the local library,” he whispered. “I scoured articles to find out about my parents, and that’s how I found out that I was shot, too.”

“How old were you?”

“Thirteen,” Harry said softly. “I came home late because I was wandering the streets for hours, trying to figure out how I’d survived. When I came home, Uncle Vernon was so enraged with me that he broke my jaw. We left for Kings Cross in the morning.”

“Remus told you about your mother, correct?”

Harry gave a nod. “Yeah. He told me about Mum, and Sirius told me about Dad.”

Dora smiled. “What do you know about them?”

“Everyone talks about Dad, but Dad was a bully,” Harry whispered. “They... They all went here, you know, and that’s how Mum and Dad met. A lot of the professors that teach here went to this school as well, and I know that Professor Snape and my dad never got along... They say I look just like my dad, except for one thing.”

“What’s that?” Dora asked.

“My eyes. I have my mother’s eyes,” Harry said softly. “But, I think I’ve got more to her than what meets the eye.”

“How so?”

“I wouldn’t deliberately bully anyone,” Harry said quietly. “Dad and Sirius... Well, I’m sure you know.”

Dora nodded. “I know.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Harry said quietly. “It’s just...it’s not me. I don’t want to seek popularity by picking on the underdog.”

“You’re kind,” Dora stated.

Harry smiled. “Headmaster Dumbledore seems to think so,” he replied.

. . .

Harry clutched at the note in Severus’s handwriting as if it was a lifeline, and ran as fast as he could to the basement of the school, after his interview with Dora ended. She did not leave the room after he excused himself, and he noticed Remus coming out of the inner portion of his private quarters as soon as he stood to leave. It was plain to see that there was something more between the two of them, and Harry was pleased that Remus had found himself someone nice to be in a relationship with.

Harry curled his hand into a fist and rapped at the door as quickly as he could. He breathed a sigh of relief when Severus opened it, and moved to the side so as he could enter. He stood there, trembling slightly, still clutching at the note, as he turned to face Severus. “Why...? Why did you send me a note?” he whispered, and Severus sighed. “You’ve been ignoring me for a good two weeks, sir. I... I don’t understand why...”

“Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger came to see me.”

Harry swallowed. “Oh?”

“Yes. It appears as if they’re concerned about you.”

Harry swallowed. “Can’t think why that would be, with Ron trying to take my personal property, and Hermione spending the vast majority of her time with him these days...”

“Mr. Weasley seemed to think that passive aggressive behavior was the way to go, while Miss Granger believed you needed space.”

Harry crossed his arms. “I don’t need space. I need to be understood.” He turned away from Severus then, his shoulders shaking. “I... I thought you were the person who would understand me, sir. I thought that...”

“Harry, you’ve got to understand that I’m entirely sympathetic to what’s been going on with you lately—well, for the past decade and nearly a half,” he said quietly. “But what you’ve also got to understand is that I am still your professor.”

“So what?” Harry asked, pushing the emotion out of his voice.

“So what?” Severus demanded, trying to keep his voice level. “Harry, you need to understand what’s at stake here.”

“So, what, this is all about your position at the school, is it?” Harry demanded, whipping around to face Severus, and nearly stumbled backwards when he realized how close he was standing to him. “You... You never cared at all, did you?” he whispered.

“That’s not true, Harry,” Severus replied. “I always cared, I do care, even now. But I think that you’re a little confused, and you’re latching onto a positive presence, and you may not be in your right frame of mind...”

“So, what, then?!” Harry cried out then, pulling himself away as Severus lowered his hand to place it onto his shoulder. “You’re calling me mad, are you?!”

“I don’t think you’re mad, Harry,” Severus assured him. “I think you’re scared, broken, and more than a little traumatized. Not to mention the notion that you may be suffering from depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder.”

Harry shook his head, pivoting away from Severus and proceeding to pace around the room. “I don’t understand what kind of game you’re playing here,” he said, digging his hands through his hair and tossing his note at him. “On the one hand, you claim to be worried about me, and now you suddenly want to see me because Ron and Hermione said some stuff to you. But whenever I try to get to the bottom of what this is—and don’t deny that there’s something here, please—you always push me away. Why are you pushing me away?!” he cried out, coming full stop before Severus, and stared up at him.

“Because I am an adult, Harry. You are still a child.”

“I haven’t been a child since I was fifteen months old, when that murderer shot my parents right in front of me!” he shouted, feeling tears pricking at his eyes. “Mum didn’t die right away, you know?” he asked then, lowering his eyes, the tears streaming down his face, muddling the look of the Turkish carpet at his feet, so much so that he didn’t hear Severus’s sharp intake of breath opposite him. “The shot was fired on her first, and she screamed—he didn’t get her right away, but he was on a mission, Riddle was, and he didn’t give a rat’s arse that her knees buckled and she fell to the ground, me in her arms. He fired again, and I screamed, too, but then I faded into unconsciousness... She bled out, me in her arms, before the coppers showed up. It didn’t take very long—I know they arrested him at the scene, thanks to the security system being tripped and 999 being alerted. Three-percent chance of survival with a good quality of life,” Harry whispered, his tone bitter. “I’d say they mucked up that statistic pretty good...”

“You... You remember your mother’s murder?” Severus whispered.

Harry raised his eyes, meeting the horrified expression of his chemistry professor. “It’s my first-ever memory,” he told him.

Severus swallowed. “I had no idea, Harry...”

“And why would you?” Harry whispered to him. “You only started talking to me like a human being, and not the scum on your boot, this year. You were pulling me in with similarities in our circumstances, but then you shut me out once I...”

“You took it too far, Harry,” Severus said quickly. “We’re not supposed to...”

“Tell me a different reason, one other than you being a professor and me your student, or the age difference,” Harry begged as he stepped closer, gripping Severus’s shirt in his hands. “Tell me that I’m not mistaken, and that you felt it, too. Say if we were just two random blokes, and there wasn’t as big an age difference, would you... Would you see me...?”

“I see you, Harry,” Severus whispered to him.

“Then... Then why can’t you just allow yourself to...?”

“Because it’s _wrong_,” Severus told him firmly, unknotting his fingers from their grip upon his shirt, and stepped a more appropriate distance away from him. “Can’t you see how wrong all of this is?”

“All of this?” Harry whispered, his voice shaking. “You... You feel it, too?”

“I cannot answer that question and keep my integrity intact, Harry.”

Harry swallowed. “So, what is this, then?” he whispered, his vision unfocusing as he focused on a space behind Severus. “Why did you summon me here?”

“I wanted to see if you were all right...”

“I think you know very well that I’m not all right,” Harry whispered to him, gritting his teeth, willing for his voice not to tremble. “You rejected me, and I don’t suppose you care how much that hurt me, but it bloody well did,” he said quietly. “I... I can’t just stand here and pretend that I’m alone in this so... I’ll just...” Harry forced himself to stop speaking then, before he pushed past Severus and bolted from his rooms.

. . . 

Headmaster Dumbledore had announced the Halloween Ball to take place on the evening in question, and Year Ten to the Upper Sixth Form were permitted to attend. Lots of people were already pairing up, with Ginny and Dean agreeing to go together almost immediately, Blaise and Pansy going as a formally established couple, and Luna with her long-term boyfriend Rolf Scamander. It came as a shock to Hermione when Ron asked Lavender to go with him, and Harry agreed to take Hermione as friends, to which she was slightly all right with.

“It’ll all work out,” Harry told her gently, rolling his eyes as she automatically reached out to adjust his crimson silk tie.

“I’m just sorry that neither of us could go with who we really wanted to go with,” she mused softly with a shrug of her white shoulders, exposed by the knee-length, sleeveless, pink dress she was wearing.

“Seamus is taking _both_ Parvati and Padma Patil,” Harry muttered, a sly look on his face, and Hermione rolled her eyes this time.

“Boys these days, really,” she grumbled, accepting Harry’s arm as they meandered towards the canteen, which had been redecorated and set aside for the night. “You know, of course, why he’s doing it.”

“To get Lavender to chuck Ron and go to him, of course,” Harry replied.

“Good to know I’m not the only one who sees it,” Hermione muttered.

Harry and Hermione walked into the canteen, while Professor Flitwick had spent hours setting up over the course of the day, between English lessons. There were Jack o’ lanterns suspended by extra-strength wires from the high ceilings, plus a live band, cobwebs dotting the walls and hanging from bits of ceiling not already established as glowing pumpkin territory, fuzzy and black spider figurines dotting every surface, and many other things that screamed Halloween as they looked around the canteen.

“They certainly went all-out, didn’t they?” Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. “Definitely,” he replied.

Harry smirked at the cover band for _The Nightmare Before Christmas_, a popular American film that he had watched over the summer at Hermione’s insisting. As the song about Jack Skellington played, Harry pulled Hermione out onto the dance floor, and noticed that Ron looked just a bit shocked at how wonderful a time the pair of them were having. Of course, all good things had to come to an end, and were it not for the pair of black eyes boring into him throughout the dance, Harry could’ve said he almost had a good time.

“What’s going on with you?” Hermione hissed as they left the dance floor.

Harry sighed, marching over towards the refreshment table, and ladled himself a generous cup of punch, swallowing it down quickly. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

Hermione sighed, looking around for a moment, before she lowered her voice. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with Professor Snape, now would it?”

Harry blanched as he looked up at her. “How do you...?”

“Why do you think Ron and I went to him in the first place to check up on you?”

Harry shook his head. “Ron... He doesn’t...?”

“Of course not,” Hermione told him. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Harry. He... He suspects that you’re gay, but I didn’t tell him. I know you’ll tell him when you’re ready.”

Harry swallowed another sip of punch. “He won’t talk to me,” he said softly, and Hermione knew her friend well-enough to know what he was talking about. “I... I kissed him,” he said softly.

Hermione gasped. “Harry, he’s our chemistry professor!”

“I know, but I couldn’t help it...”

“He could’ve lost his job,” Hermione said, panicking now.

Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s all he cares about, really...”

Hermione shook her head, dragging the punch from his shaking hand. “I highly doubt that that’s the case, Harry. He likely doesn’t want you to ruin your future.”

“I looked it up,” Harry said quietly. “Age of consent is sixteen. If he really wanted me, he could have me...”

“Harry, where is this coming from?” Hermione demanded. “You never spoke about him like this before this year, or at all, unless it was to complain about him...”

Harry sighed. “I think I knew I was gay when Cho kissed me before Christmas last year. Her actions just confirmed it,” he told her quietly. “But with Snape... I think I knew there was something from the moment I heard his voice...”

“His voice?” she asked, lifting the punch to her lips.

“Yeah. Blimey, Hermione, his voice is dead sexy...”

Hermione nearly choked on her drink of the punch. “I’m glad you know what you want, Harry, but you’ve only got this year and next year,” she told him gently. “Once those years are over, and Snape feels similarly, you can explore it all then...”

“I’m sick of restrictions,” Harry muttered to himself, before he raised his eyes again, seeing Severus slip out of the canteen, and Anthony Goldstein approaching them. “Hey, Tony,” he said in a friendly manner.

“Hey, mate. How’re things?” he asked.

Harry shrugged. “Oh, you know, can’t complain,” he replied.

“Hey, Hermione,” Anthony said, smiling politely at her.

“Tony,” Hermione replied with a smile.

“Dance?”

“I... I’m here with Harry,” Hermione said softly.

“Oh, please,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Tony, if you didn’t know it already, Hermione and I are like brother and sister. If you want to take her for a spin, and she wants it, too, then, by all means, I won’t stop you.”

Anthony looked delighted at that and offered Hermione his hand. “Shall we?”

“Yes, I’d like to,” Hermione said, flushing becomingly as she handed Harry his punch back, and glided out onto the dance floor with Anthony.

Harry sighed, setting his cup of punch down and making his way towards the door that Severus had gone out of, and dashed down the corridors towards the basement, knowing that he had to have gone down there. He caught up with him eventually, and grabbed him by the hand, which caused Severus to whip around quickly, and gaze down in a shocked manner at Harry.

“Potter!” he hissed, yanking his hand back and away from him. “What is the meaning of this inappropriate behavior?”

“I can’t take this,” Harry whispered, stepping closer to him, and Severus froze before him. “I just need to know that I’m not crazy...or mad...”

“I think we’ve established the fact that I wouldn’t describe you either way,” Severus told him softly, unmoving, but for his lips.

“Just... Tell me I’m not wrong,” Harry whispered.

Severus sighed. “Wrong about what?”

“You _know_ what!” Harry hissed at him, his voice cracking at the end. “Tell me that there’s something between us. I know there is. I can’t be wrong, can I?”

“Potter, I told you that we couldn’t...”

“_Harry_,” Harry told him, his voice filled with desperation. “My name is Harry. I thought we were already past this.”

Severus swallowed. “We were, until you crossed the line, Potter,” he said, before he turned around and walked off.

“Wait,” Harry said, latching onto his hand again and moving so that he was standing in front of him, panting with anxiety. “Look, I know I’m not crazy here, Severus,” he said, and watched as his chemistry professor looked positively put-off by the use of his given name. “I know I can’t be crazy or mad because, no matter how brief it was, you kissed me back. Now, either you feel something for me, too, or you were just pretending that I was someone else. That, or you’re as starved for affection as I am,” he went on, and Severus sneered. “Just...tell me. Which one is it, Severus, so I don’t dare to hope for something that I might be imagining.”

“I will not tolerate a _student_ asking me such an intimate question.”

“You _snogged_ me back!” Harry shouted. “I hardly think you throwing up the teacher-student relationship being forbidden thing applies here!”

Severus gritted his teeth. “That’s enough, Potter.”

“Is it?” Harry whispered, closing the distance between them, and noted with glee that Severus seemed to gasp slightly then. “When is it enough, sir? I just want you to tell me that I’m not mad, and then I’ll drop it...”

“Fine,” Severus said, grabbing ahold of his shoulders, staring directly into his eyes and seeming to not want to let him go; there was a heartbeat, a second one, and, finally, at the third one, Severus let him go and pushed him away from him. “Perhaps you are not mad... Harry,” he said softly, whispering the word like an omen as he shoved his way past him, and darted into his inner rooms, slamming the door behind him.


	5. Lies and Alibies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just...tell me. Which one is it, Severus, so I don’t dare to hope for something that I might be imagining.”
> 
> “I will not tolerate a student asking me such an intimate question.”
> 
> “You snogged me back!” Harry shouted. “I hardly think you throwing up the teacher-student relationship being forbidden thing applies here!”
> 
> Severus gritted his teeth. “That’s enough, Potter.”
> 
> “Is it?” Harry whispered, closing the distance between them, and noted with glee that Severus seemed to gasp slightly then. “When is it enough, sir? I just want you to tell me that I’m not mad, and then I’ll drop it...”
> 
> “Fine,” Severus said, grabbing ahold of his shoulders, staring directly into his eyes and seeming to not want to let him go; there was a heartbeat, a second one, and, finally, at the third one, Severus let him go and pushed him away from him. “Perhaps you are not mad... Harry,” he said softly, whispering the word like an omen as he shoved his way past him, and darted into his inner rooms, slamming the door behind him.

November dawned, and Harry, Remus, and Headmaster Dumbledore all mutually agreed that he could begin seeing a therapist to get out all of his issues. It was not snowing yet, but there was plenty of frost on the grounds, which signified that it would likely be a cold winter. It always seemed to snow at Wartsmoth, and, in the days leading up to Christmas break, Harry recalled having snowball fights with Fred and George, Ron’s older twin brothers.

The walls in the office Harry sat in were a pleasant apricot with cream accents, and there were plenty of natural flowers and plants throughout the space. He was sitting on the couch, waiting for his first-ever therapy session to begin; Dr. Bones, who told Harry that he could call her Amelia, was saying goodbye to Remus in the waiting room, before she came back into the room with a smile on her face. She was around five foot nine and wore a pleasant and kind expression, looked about thirty, had pale brown hair, engaging brown eyes that reminded Harry of Hermione, and was dressed smartly in black trousers, a white blouse, a charcoal-colored cardigan, and black ankle boots with two-inch heels.

“Would you care for some tea, Harry?” she asked.

Harry nodded. “Yes, please, Amelia.”

“Splendid; I normally have a cup right about now anyhow,” she said, walking over to the small kitchen area in her office, and put the kettle on to boil. “I drink black tea myself, which I have, but I also have Earl Grey, English, Scottish, and Irish Breakfast, along with chamomile, green, jasmine, peppermint, and oolong.”

“Black’s fine, thank you,” Harry told her.

“No problem.” As Amelia waited for the tea kettle to go off, she took two mugs out of the pantry, popped a teabag in each, and walked over to the fridge. “I have milk or cream, and sugar, honey, or lemon.”

“Milk and sugar, please. Two, if that’s all right, for the sugar.”

Amelia nodded. “Not a problem at all.” She got the milk out of the fridge, turning off the stove once the kettle whistled, and poured the hot water into their mugs. She added milk to each, plus two spoonfuls of sugar to Harry’s, and squeezed some lemon into hers. Lifting the cups carefully, she crossed the room and set them onto the walnut table, which separated the couch from a stuffed wingback chair, which Amelia had left her clipboard on. “There you are. I’d wait a couple of minutes; wouldn’t want you to burn your tongue.”

Harry chuckled at that, and settled back into the couch, content to watch the steam plume over the edge of the cup. “Thank you, Amelia.”

“It’s no trouble,” she assured him with a quick smile, picking up her clipboard and sitting in her chair across from him. “I have, of course, been debriefed by both Headmaster Dumbledore and your guardian, Professor Lupin. But, I’d like to hear from you why, in your own words, you’re here today.”

Harry swallowed. “My aunt and uncle’s trial began a week ago. It’s... It’s been a big adjustment, going back to school right after everything happened...”

Amelia nodded. “Do you believe they deserve to be on trial for what happened?”

Harry nodded back, his motions emphatic. “Of course. It’s bad enough that my cousin Dudley gets to walk free...”

“He’s been sent to a reform school, Harry,” Amelia informed him gently, and Harry swallowed, well-aware of the information. “Granted, he gets to return to his aunt each evening, but it will go on his record what happened, and he will be re-evaluated to enter society once he reaches the age of eighteen. If it doesn’t go well, house arrest until he is twenty-one.”

Harry sighed. “I know. But I wish that those medieval boys schools were still commonplace. I want to make sure that Dudley never hurts anyone again.”

Amelia lowered her face to her clipboard, nipping at the insides of her cheeks to prevent herself from laughing. “So, I take that, even before all of this began, you and your cousin were never the best of friends?”

Harry shook his head. “No, we weren’t. You can only blame his upbringing to a point. Sooner or later, Dudley has to be held accountable for all he put me through.”

“But you’re happy, now?” she asked, and Harry looked up at her. “With school and everything and, of course, you’re all right with Professor Lupin being granted guardianship of you.”

“Should’ve happened a long time ago,” Harry said bitterly.

Amelia sighed. “I am very sorry that it didn’t.”

Harry reached out then, taking up his mug of tea, blew on it, and sipped it slowly. “Do you have children, Amelia?”

Amelia nodded. “Yes, I have a daughter called Susan. She’s sixteen.”

“I know Susan,” Harry remarked.

Amelia smiled. “Yes, you attend Wartsmoth together.”

Harry considered that for a moment. “What would you do if someone hurt her?”

Amelia tapped her pen against her clipboard. “Well, illogically, I’d want to tear them limb from limb if they ever laid a hand on her. Logically, however, I would testify in court against the perpetrator, in the hopes that my words would sway the jury to give them as long a sentence as possible, to ensure that my daughter felt safe, and so that the person never hurt anyone again as long as they were able to do so.”

Harry took another sip of his tea; it eased the constant ache in his throat. “How much of this session can be made public?”

“If you’re doing things that are a danger to yourself or others, such as suicidal thoughts or intent to cause harm to other individuals, then I have to report that. There is a possibility that I will be testifying on your behalf for the trial, if they reach out to me to do such a thing. However, the vast majority of what we discuss is strictly confidential.”

“I’m gay,” Harry whispered, his voice shaking.

Amelia nodded. “That’s all right, Harry. This is a safe place. We can discuss it as much or as little as you like.”

“I... I know you can’t really tell me what your other clients do to find themselves here, but do you talk about sexuality in other sessions?”

“Yes, of course. My main focuses are children, adolescents, and young adults. A great many of them want to discuss it.” Amelia hesitated for a moment. “Do you feel negatively because of your sexuality, Harry?”

Harry sighed. “I... My aunt and uncle were against people who were queer,” he said softly, and flinched, remembering the bashing they gave to anyone who dared to live a certain way. “If they saw them on the street, they’d yell and scream and call them names...”

“It’s absolutely abhorrent that people still feel that way,” Amelia said softly. “When my partner, Rosmerta, and I decided to have Susan, we made sure to tell each other every day how much we loved each other, and we did the same once Susan was born. Ever since she was old enough to understand, we told her that some people out there just didn’t understand the way we chose to live our lives and, at the end of the day, it wasn’t any of their business.”

“How did you meet Rosmerta?” Harry asked. “Oh. Sorry. We’re supposed to be talking about me, aren’t we?”

Amelia smiled at him. “No, that’s all right. You can ask me a few questions.” She looked out the window for a moment, obviously remembering something. “I was twenty, and had just failed my first exam for my Bachelor’s Program,” she said softly. “I went into The Three Thistles for a pint, because it was a Friday, and all I wanted to do was to get pissed and go to bed. Rosie owned the place,” Amelia said softly. “She ended up spending the entire night talking to me, and I was so smitten that that’s when I knew that men didn’t stand a chance with me. I went back to The Three Thistles, every Friday, for six weeks, until I finally plucked up the courage to ask her to go to dinner with me. We did, and now we’re living together and raising Susan.”

“It sucks, that marriage isn’t legal for people like us,” Harry said quietly. “We deserve the same rights as everyone else.”

Amelia nodded. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Harry sighed, feeling more at ease than he had in a long time. “All right. Sorry for that tangent there... I’m ready to talk some more.”

“Very well,” Amelia replied, picking up her clipboard again. “Why don’t you tell me your first happy memory?”

There was a flash of something in Harry’s mind, and he found himself smiling, unknowing how he’d gone on for so long without realizing this memory. “My dad had a pilot’s license, and he would go flying on the weekends,” he said quietly. “I remember he took me for my birthday. I sat right up in the cockpit, where the co-pilot would fly. He gave me one of those hats, that you see in old-timey war films, the ones with the goggles. He let me drive the plane from the co-pilot’s seat...” Harry sighed then, seeing the entire beautiful world from the flight deck, unknowing that it would all come crashing down eventually.

“Do you remember anything about your mother?” she asked.

“Other than her murder?”

Amelia nodded. “Yes.”

“She loved baking biscuits, and listening to the radio,” Harry said with a smile. “She would just stand in the kitchen, singing The Beatles and dancing around with a rolling pin... Her and Dad’s song was _I Saw Her Standing There_...”

_Harry sat in his highchair in the kitchen, clapping his hands, and ignoring the piece of biscuit dough that had been placed in front of him to play with. He giggled as his father came into the kitchen rather dramatically as the song started, and expertly caught the wooden spoon that Lily had thrown to him._

_Lily grinned at James, encouraging him animatedly as the opening chords of the song beat throughout the kitchen of their little cottage in Somerset. “Go, James!” she cried out._

_“Well, she was just seventeen, you know what I mean!” James shouted along with the music, sidling up to Harry, who laughed at his father’s antics. “And the way she looked, was way beyond compare!” he went on. “So, how could I dance with another, ooh, when I saw her standing there?” he questioned, before making a grab for Lily’s hand, to which she squealed and laughed, her green eyes dancing and her red hair fanning about her face, and twirled her around, holding her against him._

_Harry’s favorite part was the “ooh” of the song, because James would always throw back his head and howl like a wolf. As he screamed and shouted along, trying to formulate the words of the song, Sirius and Remus came into the room, Peter trailing just behind him, singing backup for James, while James continued singing the main part and twirling Lily around._

_“Now, I’ll never dance with another,” James declared, throwing himself down at Lily’s feet, the wooden spoon still in his hand, “oh, since I saw her standing there. Oh, since I saw her standing there. Yeah, well since I saw her standing there,” he said, before launching to his feet and dipping Lily, kissing her in front of his son and three best friends_.

“Harry?”

Harry blinked then, his senses clearing as he looked at Amelia. “Yeah? Sorry...”

She smiled. “That’s all right. Where did you go?”

“Our kitchen, when I was a baby,” Harry said softly. “Dad would sing the song to Mum, and always joke that The Beatles wrote it for them, because they were seventeen when they fell in love and got together. Their friends Sirius and Remus were there, plus the guy what gave away their location to Riddle, Peter...”

“I understand that Peter Pettigrew was in hiding until you were thirteen, but then his location was discovered.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. He got arrested for turning in my parents’ location, which ended up getting them killed. He’s serving a hard twenty-five for conspiracy.”

“Did you testify?”

Harry shook his head. “No. They said I was too young. But, I was permitted to read a statement during court before he was sentenced, though. Ron’s parents, Molly and Arthur, took me to court to read it. I usually stayed with them for the last two weeks of summer, before school started, and during the Christmas holidays, when my aunt and uncle could ‘spare me’,” he said, using air quotes.

Amelia inclined her head. “I’m also told that your aunts’ and uncle’s abuse towards you was not limited to emotional and physical abuse?”

Harry sighed. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“What would happen?”

“My aunt would make me stand naked in front of her, while she hit at me and called me a disgusting little freak,” Harry said softly. “My cousin would rape me. And, when my uncle caught him raping me, he did it, too.”

“Do you think your aunt and uncle knew about what your cousin was doing?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know if I even want to know the right answer to that question anymore,” he confessed, lifting his mug of tea to his lips and sipping it slowly.

. . . 

Harry sat at the large table with the starched-white tablecloth, feeling slightly out-of-place that the surrounding area was so obviously fancy. Sandwiched between Ron and Hermione and surrounded by the rest of the Weasleys, Harry was pleased that Remus was among the redheads. They were having an informal Thanksgiving gathering, because the oldest Weasley child, Bill, was visiting from France with his visibly pregnant wife, Fleur, where they worked at BNP Paribas. Others in attendance were Charlie and his boyfriend, Andre Egwu, visiting from Romania; Percy, visiting from London with his blushing bride, Audrey; and Fred, visiting from London with boyfriend Lee Jordan, and George, also visiting from London with his girlfriend Angelina Johnson respectively.

“Dinner ees delicious,” Fleur proclaimed in her heavily accented English. “I zhink zee baby likes it, too.”

“Careful, Bill,” Charlie warned from where he sat across the table, arm slung around Andre, a professional football player, whom he had met while they were both attending Wartsmoth Academy. “She may want another one.”

Bill sighed, dragging his hands through his shoulder-length red hair. “Fleur, remind me again why I moved out...”

Andre playfully smacked Charlie on the arm, and was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek. “You told me you weren’t behind your brother’s moving,” he scolded mockingly.

Charlie held up his hands in surrender. “Wasn’t me.”

“It was us,” Fred said, and Lee put his face in his hands to stifle his laughter. “Lee and I were just a bit too loud, weren’t we?”

“Boys,” Molly scolded from across the table.

“Hey, don’t count us out—hey!” George cried, rubbing his arm where Angelina had smacked him, before returning to her salad.

“Really boys, enough,” Molly warned.

Harry grinned at Ginny from across the table, who was muffling her own laugher, along with Dean, who had his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t make them stop, Molly, please,” Harry begged, laughing so hard that he was close to tears.

“Yeah, Mum, let us live a little,” Ron whined.

“Honestly, Ronald, you’re even worse than the twins sometimes,” Hermione said, scoffing as she stabbed her shrimp fettuccine.

“Well, Mum, Dad, as you know I’ve been promoted in parliament, and Audrey’s on her way to making partner at the firm,” Percy said, attempting to diffuse the tension as he put an arm around his wife’s shoulders; they’d gotten married the previous spring, rather early, but were so in love that neither Molly nor Arthur could refuse their blessing.

Harry had never had such a lovely time, although he had to be reminded to eat his porterhouse by Hermione more than once, as Ron was eyeing it from his other side. He cut another piece of it and popped it into his mouth, the juice flowing onto his tongue and immediately calming him down, and took a sip of water. He was so relieved to know just how much Molly and Arthur supported homosexuality, given that two of their seven children were gay, and neither seemed to make any issue of it. Even when Harry had called them after his first therapy session and had come out to them, he could hear Molly’s tears of joy on the other side of the phone, along with Arthur’s encouragement and vow to support him.

“How’s things going with Dr. Bones, mate?” Ron asked, getting tomato sauce all over his face as he rather unbecomingly shoved another bite of spaghetti and meatballs into his mouth.

“She’s nice,” Harry confirmed with a nod, taking a bite of his garlic whipped potatoes, but just moved his green beans around the plate.

“She comes highly recommended, Dr. Bones does, and graduated first in her class at Wartsmoth in 1974, and then from The Queen’s Medical Research Institute at the University of Edinburgh in 1984,” Hermione said proudly.

“Do you know everything?” Ron demanded.

Hermione’s brown eyes flashed for a moment, and her lower lip quivered; she truly hated how much time he was spending with Lavender, and was really only taking some time to see how she felt about Anthony before anything happened... “Her daughter, Susan, attends Wartsmoth with us,” she went on. “Perhaps you’d like to sow your seeds with her as well.” She stood abruptly from the table then, and dashed off; Harry could see the tears in her eyes as she ran, and knew it was as bad as English class in their first year of secondary school when Hermione had corrected Ron’s use of verbs versus adverbs.

“Stay, I’ll go,” Ginny said to Harry, pecking Dean on the cheek before shooting a scathing look at Ron, and took off after Hermione.

“Don’t know why she’s acting this way,” Ron said with a careless shrug, dipping his garlic bread in a stray amount of tomato sauce and shoving it into his mouth.

Harry gritted his teeth; yes, Ron was his best mate and nothing would ever change that, but he truly resented how selfish the taller redhead was being. “Can’t you see that you’re hurting her, Ron?” he queried.

“What?” Ron demanded, mouth full, with noodles dangerously close to falling out and onto his plate. “Not you, too!”

Harry blinked, surprised at his reply, and tried to ignore the stands of noodles, cheese, and sauce, which were currently suspended from Ron’s mouth. “What do you mean?”

“Ginny’s been talking my ear off for weeks about it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “It’s bad enough to have my little sister going on, but to have my best mate doing it, too...”

“Ron, this is Hermione we’re talking about,” Harry said, his voice firm.

“Your point?”

“Ron,” Harry said, crossing his arms.

“I can’t help who I like,” Ron replied, throwing his hands up into the air.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “And... And you like Lavender?”

Ron laughed. “Don’t know,” he replied. “But whatever it is that Lav and I have,” he went on, and Harry’s stomach rolled at the abominable pet name, “there’s no stopping it,” his best mate declared.

. . . 

Harry, Hermione, Luna, Rolf, Neville, and Seamus all stood together in the flurries of snow, on the stands overlooking the schools’ football field. They were cheering one of the two opposing teams that Wartsmoth featured—the Warthogs and the Moths—and they were the Warthogs. Ron and Ginny effortlessly kicked the ball to one another, towards the goal of the Warthogs, desperately trying to get it to the goal, which was being blocked by Blaise Zabini, who played for the Moths. On the other side, in the stands for the opposing team, Draco, Pansy, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle all shouted for Blaise to block the pass, thus preventing the Warthogs victory.

“I’ll never speak to you again if this goes badly,” Hermione muttered to Harry.

Harry shook his head at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I told you as much in the canteen today.”

“Ritalin isn’t something you can go swapping around!” Hermione hissed. “You could be expelled for that, and Ron suspended for knowingly taking it!”

Dean, who played as goalkeeper for the Warthogs, cheered on his team from where he stood, opposite Blaise, and shouted encouragement at Ginny’s quick and effortless footwork. Ginny had been raised by a sport-loving family, with Charlie, Fred, and George, all being members of the Warthog team during their time at Wartsmoth. Charlie had made Captain of the Warthog Team when he was in Year Eleven at Wartsmoth, also playing as Left-Back, and Fred and George had been Center Forward on both accounts. Ron was now the Captain of the Warthog Team, and was playing as Left Midfield, while Ginny was Co-Captain and Right Midfield.

“Nobody’s getting expelled or suspended today, ‘Mione,” Harry told her, rolling his eyes at her theatrics. “You need to just enjoy the game.”

“Luna said she _saw _you,” Hermione insisted. “Why would she lie?”

“No idea,” Harry replied, looking over to where Rolf was running his hands through Luna’s hair, as she giggled at the attention.

“They’re highly addictive, Harry,” Hermione went on. “I’m surprised that _you_ managed to get medication at all...”

“Hello? Therapy, remember?” Harry said.

Hermione smacked her face into her palm. “Oh, god. Sorry.”

It was the final game of first-term, and it was tradition that the winner of the final match would go up against other private schools during second term. The first game was to be against Fettes College, which had opened its doors to girl students thirteen years before; the second game would be against The Edinburgh Academy, while the third would be against Stewart's Melville College. The third game was always a deciding factor in whether or not they would move onto private schools in England. If they lost the third game, they were out of the championships for that year for good; this spoke of bad news to Upper Sixth Form students who were hoping to be scouted on a professional level upon commencement from Wartsmoth.

“Dr. Bones isn’t altogether sure what I have yet, but now I’m actually able to focus in class and sleep at night,” Harry said firmly. “That’s two birds with one stone.”

Hermione sighed. “Yeah, I know that, Harry. And I’m very glad you’re attempting to resolve your issues through therapy.”

“Thank you,” Harry said with a smile.

“But that doesn’t mean you can go off and share your medication with people!”

Harry had played for the Warthogs upon his first year, after the former physical education instructor, Professor Quirrell, had seen how natural he’d been upon the field. He had achieved the rank of Striker almost immediately, with Winger following suit by his third year. In the wake of his godfather Sirius’s murder last term, however, Harry had hung up his jersey for good, content to watch the games with Hermione from the sidelines from now on. Professor Slughorn had taken over physical education upon Professor Quirrell’s move to Cambridge University after teaching for five years; Professor Slughorn had come out of retirement in the interim, and had retired again by the following year, paving the way for Remus to take over the position, which had been taken over temporarily by Professor Moody during Harry’s fourth and fifth years; Harry also knew that Moody wanted some time off from his superior position at Scotland Yard, which he served alongside Kingsley Shacklebolt.

“I didn’t give Ron anything, Hermione.”

Hermione gritted her teeth. “Then, explain to me why he’s playing so well.”

“He never _didn’t _play well,” Harry countered.

“Well, yes, I know that, but...”

Harry leaned forward in the stands, Hermione quieting suddenly, and the pair watched as Ron served the ball to Ginny, who promptly kicked it into the net, narrowly dodging Blaise’s attempts to block it. Harry shot to his feet with Hermione, and they embraced one another as the Warthogs and Moths shook hands, giving over victory to the Warthogs. Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Seamus returned to the dorm common area, with Luna and Rolf at their heels, cheering Ron and Ginny for the victory.

“You really shouldn’t have done it,” Hermione said with a small smile as Neville and Seamus pulled out and put together a stereo with some CD’s, Freddie Mercury’s voice soon blasting around the room.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Still don’t know what you mean.”

“Harry, we discussed...” Hermione cut herself off then, as Harry produced his orange plastic bottle of Ritalin, which was missing precisely ten pills, one for each day he’d first received it from Dr. Bones. “You... You’ve never missed a day. I’ve seen you every morning in the canteen, taking one with juice or water.”

Harry nodded at her, with a smile.

“You never put it in Ron’s juice, did you?” she asked, and Harry grinned widely at her. “Ron only _thought_ you did.”

Harry nodded in confirmation, before he pocketed the bottle.

It was then that Ron, who had been paraded onto a makeshift platform in the center of the common area, was suddenly yanked down from his perch. The yanker in question was none other than Lavender Brown, and she stared at Ron for a moment, almost as if she was losing her courage. However, she promptly threw her arms around him and kissed him, Ron hesitating for a moment before doing the same to her.

Harry heard the gasp from beside him almost immediately, and turned to see Hermione looking shell-shocked at the unexpected turn of events. She blinked back tears in her beautiful brown eyes before she turned and walked calmly out of the room. Harry met Ginny’s eyes for a moment and she nodded, letting him know that it was his turn. Swallowing, Harry left the festivities and went on after Hermione, unknowing what he would find, but even seeing Professor Snape’s black eyes temporarily boring into him as he went down the various hallways to find her, afforded him no measure of comfort, only trepidation at what was to come, as well as what he could stand to lose before it was even gained.

. . . 

The Christmas holidays had officially arrived, with Remus informing Harry on the day of that he and Dora had been seeing one another. Harry was entirely supportive of it, as he liked Dora, and he had seen the way they looked at each other. A few days after the explosion of Christmas had ended, Harry went north to Devon to see Ron and the rest of the Weasleys; he had communicated to Hermione by phone back at Remus’s villa, who had told him in no certain terms would she be going to the Weasley home.

Harry swallowed as he stood before the mirror in Ron’s bedroom, trying his best to tuck in his white, button-down shirt. He was due in court that day to testify, and had quested that Molly and Arthur be the ones to take him. Ron was tagging along as well, and Hermione had agreed to hold her tongue for the afternoon, and would be waiting for them there after an over three-hour train trip from Hampstead. Hermes and Jean would be along as well, to keep her company, and had agreed to come to court and support Harry.

Harry, Ron, Molly, and Arthur arrived at the impressive white stone building of the Royal Courts of Justice at ten o’clock in the morning, an hour before Harry was due on the stand. He had been briefed before vacation, and had been given reading material as to the questions he was expected to answer, as well as appropriate answers to those questions. Once inside, they were shown to a room where witnesses and their families were permitted to wait, and Harry was pleased that Hermione, Hermes, and Jean were already there waiting for them.

“Harry!” Hermione cried out, dashing forward; she wore a smart white blouse that day, with a black wool sweater, matching skirt, hose, and black Mary Jane shoes. She wrapped her arms around her best friend, deliberately avoiding Ron’s gaze, before pulling back and clutching at his hands. “Are you all right?”

Harry nodded, allowing himself to be led to a chair as Molly and Arthur greeted Hermes and Jean. He took the offered cup of water from Hermione as he sank into the seat, sipping it slowly, suddenly overcome with nerves. “I’m just... I’m worried that the opposing side is going to make me out to be a liar...”

“They will,” Ron said, all trace of rudeness or immaturity gone from his tone. “We saw enough crime dramas to know that, Harry.”

Harry swallowed another sip of water. “They’re going to make me look terrible up there, aren’t they, ‘Mione?”

Hermione sighed, sitting beside Harry and taking his hand. “They probably will,” she told him gently. “But you know as well as I do that they are showing your medical in court right now, as we speak. The one they took before Dora took you from Surrey. Those results can’t lie, Harry; the marks on your back, and the other scars that they found... No question. You were brutalized and everyone directly involved must be held accountable.”

Harry nodded, wanting desperately to change the subject. “How’s your holiday been?” he asked her. “What have you done?”

“We went to Shaftesbury Avenue,” Hermione said softly. “Mum, Dad, and I went to the theater, and I invited Tony along.”

“Anthony Goldstein?!” Ron demanded.

Hermione shot him a glare before turning back to Harry.

“How was it?” Harry asked.

“We saw _Arcadia_ by Tom Stoppard,” Hermione informed him. “It was a positively lovely show, and Tony and I had tea together afterwards.” She blushed becomingly then. “He brought me a white rose.”

“Just _one_?” Ron sneered, and it set both Harry and Hermione’s teeth on edge. “Any man should bring a woman a full bouquet.”

“I wasn’t asking you, Ronald,” Hermione said, obviously fighting to keep her temper. “As you recall, we’re here for Harry. Perhaps we could deal with this animosity at a later, more appropriate, time?”

Ron huffed. “Fine,” he muttered, pouring himself a glass of water.

The door of the room opened, and a bailiff stood there. “Mr. Harry Potter?”

Harry rose to his feet, handing his cup to Hermione. “That’s me, sir.”

“Wonderful,” he replied. “You’re up next. If you would follow me, Mr. Potter, the rest of you are welcome to go and sit in the gallery.”

“Thank you,” Molly said, squeezing Harry’s hand as he walked by, and Harry took off after the bailiff.

Harry followed the bailiff into another room, where he was told to wait for a moment; he watched as the bailiff walked out into the courtroom, and then motioned for him to follow. Harry obeyed instantly, and moved towards the witness stand, raising his right hand over the bible, and swearing the tell the truth upon the stand.

“Please state your name for the court,” said the judge, Cornelius Fudge.

“Harry James Potter,” Harry replied clearly.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” Judge Fudge said with a nod towards him. “You may begin your questioning now.”

The barrister on behalf of the court, Rufus Scrimgeour, was nothing if not professional. He had scraggly-looking dark brown hair, and small, yet engaging eyes. He never sugar-coated anything, and was forthright in his questioning towards Harry. In fact, he seemed to believe Harry, and yet treated him like an adult throughout the proceedings. At the end of his questioning, he apologized to Harry on behalf of the justice system of the United Kingdom, letting him know that he truly did see his side of the story as the truth.

Pius Thicknesse, Vernon and Petunia’s solicitor, got to his feet once he was permitted to do so, and stared at Harry with dark, soulless eyes. His long, black hair was tied back respectably in a ponytail down his back, and he ran his hands along his dark, silk suit as a means of establishing power as he approached the stand.

“How long were you in the care of Vernon and Petunia Dursley, Mr. Potter?” he asked, his voice soft, yet deadly.

“I came into their care at fifteen months old, and left it almost a month after my sixteenth birthday, sir,” Harry replied. “So, give or take, it was over a decade and a half.”

Thicknesse nodded. “And, you claim, that for the first ten years of your living there, that your bedroom was a cupboard under the stairs?”

“I don’t claim, sir, for to claim means falsehood,” Harry said softly. “I did indeed live in a cupboard under the stairs.”

The solicitor looked annoyed, but pressed on. “You also claim that you were only let out of the cupboard, for the most part, to complete chores and other tasks, which included cooking the meals, washing dishes, cleaning the house and bathrooms in various ways, and tending to the garden?”

Harry nodded stiffly. “Yes, that’s correct, sir.”

“What occasion marked you to be moved into a bedroom?”

“It was my acceptance into Wartsmoth Academy for Gifted Students,” Harry said clearly. “My aunt and uncle seemed fearful that people from the courts would be knocking on their doors, demanding to know how I was treated. They moved me to this new room simply out of fear, and it remained my bedroom until I left.”

“By ‘left’, you mean you called 999 on my clients?”

“For just reason, Your Honor!” Scrimgeour said, shooting to his feet. “It’s been established in the young man’s medical that Mr. Potter sustained lacerations to his back, and was suffering from bruising, fractures, a sprained wrist, and internal bleeding, among other things,” the barrister said, and glared at Thicknesse’s insinuations.

“That’s very true, Scrimgeour,” Judge Fudge said, turning his attention to Thicknesse. “We’ve been over this during the medical, Thicknesse, that Mr. Potter’s allegations about his wounds, at this point, are not to be doubted. Please proceed.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Thicknesse replied, turning back to Harry. “You called 999 on the thirteenth of August of this year, correct?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Care to elaborate what had happened that day, Mr. Potter?”

Harry straightened slightly, and cleared his throat. “My cousin had come into my bedroom; he knew how to jimmy the lock to get himself in,” he said. “He shut the door, crossed the room, not bothering to turn on the light, and climbed into my bed with me. He tore off the old quilt, yanked down my sleep pants and boxers, and proceeded to rape me.”

“By ‘rape’, you mean...?”

“He put himself inside me by force, despite my begging him not to and attempts to push him off and away from me,” Harry stated.

“So, you admit you assaulted the son of my clients?”

“Your Honor!” Scrimgeour cried out.

“It is not assault, Thicknesse, if one is acting in self-defense,” Fudge stated. “Please, tread lightly now.”

“Very well, Your Honor,” Thicknesse replied. “What happened next?”

“I continued begging my cousin to stop his attacks, but it did no good. I think it was my screaming or crying that alerted my aunt and uncle, who got into my room. My aunt took my cousin out of there, and they left the house. My uncle came into my room then and took off his belt, hitting me harder than he ever did.”

“Where were you hit?”

“Mostly my back, but upon my buttocks as well,” Harry said.

“Go on,” Thicknesse said.

“He... He became enraged and grabbed me by the hips, before he forcefully put himself inside me,” Harry said, his voice shaking slightly. “He... He tore me, far more than my cousin had ever had, and it... It hurt,” Harry admitted brokenly, tears streaming down his face. “He still had his belt in one hand, and he hit me with it, drawing blood and pain, while he screamed at me what a filthy freak I was...”

“And what happened then, Mr. Potter?”

“He... He finished,” Harry said, swallowing the bile in his throat as he remembered the feeling, “and then he threw me down in a heap, before he stomped out of the room. He took a shower and yelled at me that I’d better be done with my chores before he came back. He left my door unlocked... When I heard him slam the front door, and his car leave, I forced myself to my feet and walked downstairs, to the phone, and called 999.”

“Your Honor?” came Scrimgeour’s voice.

“Will that be all, Thicknesse?” Judge Fudge asked.

Thicknesse sighed. “Yes,” he said at last. “I think I have all that I need.”

. . .

Once he was off the stand, with his portion of questioning over, Harry fled from the courtroom, and met the Weasleys and the Granger’s outside. They said goodbye to the Granger’s, Harry hugging Hermione close, and returned to the Weasley’s car. He slid into the back with Ron, and held tightly to his duffel bag, as they drove to Kings Cross.

Harry thanked them for everything, and got onto his assigned train. He stared out the window of his compartment for the entirety of the journey. Remus was in England for a few days, meeting Dora’s parents, so Harry was instructed to get a cab back to the villa. He had plenty of pocket money, Remus had seen to that, and also had a credit card attached to the money that his parents had left him upon their deaths.

Harry got off the train and walked to the car park, where several cabs were waiting for hire. He chose one at random, and requested them to take him to Wartsmoth Academy, because he didn’t fancy being at the villa on his own, as Remus had taken Valencia with him. Harry kept quiet during the car ride, but tipped the driver generously, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder as he passed through the main gates of the school.

He headed directly to the Warthog common area, dumping his duffel upon his bed, and freshened up with a shower, and a change of clothes. Next, he left the room, wandering for a few moments, before finally breaking into a run. His heart was pounding in his ears as he ran downstairs to the chemistry classroom, and invited himself in, standing in the doorway for a few moments, as he waited for Professor Snape to look up. When he did, he stepped closer, and shut the door behind him, as he went forward.

“Harry?” Severus asked, getting promptly to his feet. “You’re not expected back here for nearly a week.”

Harry nodded. “I know.”

“You testified today, didn’t you?”

Harry swallowed. “I did, yes.”

“How did it go?”

Harry dragged a hand through his fringe. “Other than their solicitor trying to make me out to be some kind of fraud, it went fine.”

Severus sighed. “They’re known to do that, unfortunately.”

Harry sucked in a breath then, before he went forward all the way, and whispered, “Please, don’t push me away this time,” before he threw himself into Severus’s arms, kissing him as hard as he could.

Severus felt his resolve weakening as Harry pushed himself flush against him, and, finally, the dam broke, and he held Harry against him. “You know just how wrong this is, don’t you?” he asked, leaning his head back as Harry trailed kisses along his jaw.

“I don’t care,” Harry declared.

“This is so wrong,” Severus whispered. “I... I’ve never...”

“Never...?” Harry asked, pulling back, green meeting black.

“Never allowed a student...”

Harry swallowed. “No time like the present,” he whispered. “Please...”

Severus tilted his chin up. “Are you sure?”

Harry nodded. “Yes,” he said fiercely. “Please. I want this. I want you.”

Severus hesitated. “There’s a lot at stake here, Harry.”

Harry smiled slightly then. “Sounds like a natural part of life to me.” He hesitated for a moment then, and sighed. “But... But do you even...”

“What?” Severus asked. “Ask me anything.”

“Do you even want me?” Harry whispered, his voice trembling.

Severus sighed. “Against my better judgement, yes. Against everything that I stand for, yes. I can’t help how I feel, Harry. Yes, I want you.”

The shuddering breath became caught in Harry’s lungs at the words then, and he shoved Severus backwards onto his desk, and knelt before him, grabbing ahold of the fly on his trousers, and held it in place, as he unbuttoned the lone button and pulled down the zipper. He could feel Severus breathing heavily above him as he took control, and, painstakingly, he pulled down the trousers and black boxers, inhaling at the sight of Severus’s erect member.

“You... You don’t have to...” Severus began, as Harry took his thumb and gently rubbed the head, which was already leaking slightly with pre come. “Harry...” He whispered then, and he couldn’t deny that the movement had made his toes curl.

“Mmm... Severus,” Harry whispered, leaning forward then, and wrapped his lips around his professor’s shaft.

Severus groaned at the feeling of the hot and wet chamber that was Harry’s mouth, and he gripped the sides of the desk to keep himself from permitting his knees to buckle. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, Harry,” he whined.

“Severus,” Harry whispered throatily, taking all he could into his mouth, while he gently stroked at the last portion of phallus that he was unable to. “Just like that, Severus. Give into me. Let yourself go and just be...”

Severus squirmed around Harry’s lips and his grip as he sucked and pumped harder. Of course, he had had his share of lovers, but none of them inexplicably knew what he wanted, without him asking for it beforehand. He hated, _hated_, that the feeling of Harry’s mouth on him was incomparable to all of his past lovers, and didn’t know how he would ever be able to give up that sweet little mouth of his...

“Don’t... Don’t stop,” he begged, positively writhing beneath him.

“I won’t, don’t make me,” Harry begged right back, pumping him faster than ever. “Come for me, Severus. Come in my mouth.”

Severus let out a low moan then, losing complete control then as his vision went white, and he collapsed upon the top of his desk. He blinked, seeing the ceiling of his classroom a moment later, and Harry was still kneeling before him. Severus pushed himself upwards then, staring down at Harry, tears in both their eyes. Pulling the teen to his feet, he pressed their foreheads together, before Harry pressed closer, and captured his professor’s mouth again, and Severus knew just how sinfully delicious it was, tasting himself in Harry’s mouth.

“I don’t want to stop,” Harry whispered, clutching at him.

Severus sighed. “I know.”

“But... We have to, don’t we?” he whimpered.

Severus sighed, holding Harry close. “Harry...”

“Don’t,” Harry begged then, tears clouding his vision as he pushed himself away from him. “If you say it, you’ll just break my heart. I’ve broken so much in my life, lost so much... I don’t want to know if I’ve lost you before I’ve got you yet,” he whimpered, before tearing himself away completely and running from the room.

Severus sighed, tangling his fingers into his hair. What had he done? If he didn’t stop this nonsense, he would find himself falling for a student. No... No, he couldn’t even allow himself to think in those terms. This ended here, now, with a moment of foolishness and a fumble between them, and it could never be repeated again, no matter how much they both wanted it to.


	6. An Upside-Down World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want to stop,” Harry whispered, clutching at him.
> 
> Severus sighed. “I know.”
> 
> “But... We have to, don’t we?” he whimpered.
> 
> Severus sighed, holding Harry close. “Harry...”
> 
> “Don’t,” Harry begged then, tears clouding his vision as he pushed himself away from him. “If you say it, you’ll just break my heart. I’ve broken so much in my life, lost so much... I don’t want to know if I’ve lost you before I’ve got you yet,” he whimpered, before tearing himself away completely and running from the room.
> 
> Severus sighed, tangling his fingers into his hair. What had he done? If he didn’t stop this nonsense, he would find himself falling for a student. No... No, he couldn’t even allow himself to think in those terms. This ended here, now, with a moment of foolishness and a fumble between them, and it could never be repeated again, no matter how much they both wanted it to.

“Okay, Harry, what’s bothering you?” Amelia asked as she sat with Harry, in his second therapy session of that calendar year. “You hardly said a word last time we met, and now you’re wearing a hole in my carpet. Talk to me about what’s going on.”

Harry sighed, crossing his arms in a protective gesture around himself and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t really know how to answer that question...”

“Is this about your aunt and uncle?”

Harry shook his head. “No.”

“About your cousin?”

“No.”

“Did their solicitor reach out to you and do some low-ball intimidation tactics? Say the word, Harry, and that much’ll get him disbarred...”

Harry swallowed. “No, it’s got nothing to do with the Dursleys, or the trial. It’s... It’s something else, but I’m afraid that someone’ll get in trouble if I say something...”

“Just talk to me, Harry,” Amelia told him gently. “Maybe we can figure something out. The last thing I want is you worrying about something else.”

Harry gritted his teeth in an attempt to focus. “During the Christmas hols, Dora took Remus and Valencia to England to meet her parents.”

Amelia nodded. “Yes, he had mentioned that to me last time he dropped you off. By all accounts, the visit went well. He mentioned being worried about the age difference, but Ted and Dromeda didn’t seem to mind one way or the other...”

“I wasn’t worried about it,” Harry told her. “I gave them a call before we left for court. Ted and Dromeda wished me luck. They seemed nice.”

“Well, then, what’s on your mind?”

Harry leaned back against the wall of the office, the winter sun seeping slightly into his back, as he kept his arms crossed. “I... I didn’t go straight home after court, like I said I was going to. I took the train into Edinburgh, and looked around. I managed to get into a bar, and I had a drink, and, while I was there, I met someone, a guy...”

Amelia nodded. “And, you went home with him?”

“To his place,” Harry said softly. “He had a flat not too far away. He was really nice, and we hung out for a bit, and they I went back to the villa.”

“How old was he, Harry?”

“In this thirties,” Harry said, his voice muffled as he lowered his head. “I just... I wanted to take some control, you know? He didn’t pressure me or anything. He told me I didn’t have to, but I wanted to...”

Amelia sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Well, obviously, if you weren’t coerced, that’s one thing. But I want to impress upon you how dangerous that situation was, Harry. It was a total stranger, an older one at that, and he could’ve done god knows what to you, once you were out of the bar. Do you understand that behavior, especially reckless behavior, has consequences?”

Harry bit his lower lip. “Yes.”

“Good. I don’t want to have to bring this up to Remus—”

“Please don’t!” Harry cried out, his eyes flashing to Amelia’s—he couldn’t let Remus know, because he could let it slip out somehow, and then Dora could get involved, or Severus could figure out that something had been said— “Please, Amelia,” Harry begged. “Don’t let Remus find out about this. I know it was stupid, and it’ll never happen again, I promise.”

Amelia dragged her hand down her face. “And I’ve got your word that it’ll never happen again, Harry?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, you’ve got my word.”

Amelia swallowed. “All right, I won’t say anything.” She turned to her notes from the previous session, thinking it over. “We discussed briefly your feelings towards Riddle last session, before you clammed up.”

Harry nodded, pushing himself off from the wall and sitting on the couch. “I remember.”

“Well, what do you think you’d say to him, if you saw him?”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Confrontation, in the right setting, is never automatically a bad idea,” Amelia replied. “You’re safe at the prison, as there’s a meeting room for the inmates to see approved visitors, and they have at least one guard on duty at all times.”

“Well, I’ve got _plenty_ to say to him,” Harry said, fire in his voice.

Amelia nodded. “Well, I’ve talked it over with Remus, and he’s in agreement that you seeing Riddle may not be such a bad idea.”

Harry blinked. “Really?”

“Really,” Amelia told him. “If you’re interested, of course.”

“I am interested.”

“Very well. I’ll sign off on it, meaning that I think it’s beneficial for your treatment to talk to him in prison. Now, you’ll have to seek permission from your headmaster, as visiting hours are usually only held on weekdays.”

“Meaning, I’d have to miss a day of school?”

Amelia nodded. “Yes. Perhaps on a Friday, and you can use your weekend to come down from the visit and catch up on any assignments you’ve missed. I assume that you’ve got a friend that can get them for you, and take any necessary notes?”

“Hermione,” Harry told her. “She’d do it.”

“Very well,” Amelia said with a nod. “I’ll contact your headmaster, let him know what’s happening, and he should be calling you in to see him quickly.”

Harry swallowed; he couldn’t shake the notion that, not only had he lied to Amelia’s face about his intimate encounter, but that he would also be coming face-to-face with the man who had murdered his parents. “Sounds good,” he managed to get out.

Amelia looked over her clipboard at him. “Harry? Are you sure you’re all right?”

Harry sighed, but swallowed the fear and trepidation. “Just nervous about meeting Riddle,” he said at last, which was true. “I hope he actually talks to me.”

Amelia gave him a small smile. “One can only hope,” she said softly.

. . . 

The following day was Friday, and Headmaster Dumbledore had already given Harry permission to take the train from Edinburgh to Manchester, which was the city where Riddle was being held at Strangeways. Harry had caught the first train, with Remus escorting him to the station, at approximately six-fifteen in the morning; he was due to arrive in Manchester at nine-thirty, and was instructed to eat breakfast before heading over to the prison. Harry didn’t rightly know if he would even have an appetite, but he was determined to keep his word from Remus from then on, and strove to find somewhere appropriate to have breakfast.

Harry stepped off the train upon arrival, taking a bus to the blocks near the prison, before hopping off and finding a café close by. He stepped inside, ordering eggs on toast with some orange juice, and sat at the table, fiddling with his silverware and napkin. It was a paper thin piece, one that he frequently knew was associated with inexpensive restaurants, and Harry didn’t understand why a greasy spoon like this would permit such flimsy things. Nevertheless, it smelled delicious, and he thanked the waitress when his breakfast arrived, eating it gratefully, his appetite slightly better than it had been recently.

Once he’d finished and paid, he went over to the bathroom to wash his hands, and to splash some water onto his face. His eyes glowed green from behind his glasses, and his heart was hammering in his chest at the notion of what was to come. Pushing himself out of that frame of mind, he left the bathroom and thanked the employees before he headed out into the overcast winter day. It began to rain as he walked towards the prison, and he pulled his nondescript, black raincoat around him as he stepped through the visitors’ gates, and made his way towards the front door of the facility.

Harry followed the signs to the registration desk, and signed in, showing his identification before he was given a visitors’ pass. “Thank you,” he said, nodding at the burly-looking guard who was going to escort him to the visitors’ room, and handed over contraband items, so as they wouldn’t be used against him. They walked down the long stretch of hallway, and he was let into another room off the second one they walked down, and Harry swallowed at the sight of the man waiting for him at one of the chrome tables. “Thank you,” he said again, before crossing the room and perching on the stool before Riddle.

Riddle inclined his head, his black hair buzzed short, as he stared at Harry with dark eyes. He had a typical face, although it was serpent-like, which was immediately off-putting to any viewer, Harry figured. “Ah. So, this is the famous Harry Potter, whose screams ended my reign of terror. You know,” he said, his hands, shackled to the table before him, forming into fists, “it was a marvel that they didn’t finger me for your attempted murder. Plea bargain,” he explained to Harry’s unanswered question. “I pled guilty to double murder, and handed over the murder weapon, and, in exchange, got life in this castle.”

“Why did you do it?” Harry asked, shocked to find his voice much stronger than he’d originally thought it would be. “Why would you just kill my parents? They didn’t do anything to you, and you know it.”

Riddle chuckled. “Ah, so no pleasantries, then, hmm? Not even a preamble? You’re not even going to ask me how I am?”

Harry narrowed his eyes slightly then. “I think it’s plain to see how you are, Tom. Pushed from your pedestal like that. You’re really living it large in here, aren’t you?”

Riddle glared at him, and his hands shook, attempting to get the shackles off of him. “I didn’t want to kill you, you know. Didn’t even want to shoot you.”

“Oh?” Harry asked, scoffing. “Then, why did you?”

“Your screaming was quite a turn-off,” Riddle replied off-handedly. “My main desire was to eliminate your parents, and then raise you to be...well, devoted to me.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “You wanted me to raise you to be your sex slave, then?” he snapped, his stomach churning at the images his mind seemed to automatically conjure up. “That’s a new low, Tom, even for you.”

Riddle shrugged. “I’m a criminal, Mr. Potter. Expect nothing less from me but what you perceive to be despicable behavior.” He looked him up and down with a satisfied smirk on his face. “However, my assumptions on whether you’d be a rather pretty young man were indeed correct.”

Harry gritted his teeth. “You’re sick,” he declared.

“Now, now, pet,” Riddle said, smiling that serpentine smile of his at Harry, “none of that, none of that. Don’t get those little panties in a twist.”

“Why did you do it?” Harry demanded, his voice stronger than before. “Why would you just up and kill them like that? Tell me why you killed them!”

Riddle smirked at his passion. “Come, come, Harry. We play by my rules, all right? If you want the information you seek, you must listen first.”

Harry crossed his arms. “Fine,” he growled. “Tell me whatever you want.”

“Very good,” Riddle commended him. “Now, then. You are aware that I had a great many followers, correct?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“You’re aware of Peter Pettigrew, one-time best friend of your fathers’, who informed me of your parents’ safe house, and Bellatrix Lestrange, who murdered one of your godfathers, Sirius Black, last summer?”

Harry nodded stiffly. “Yes.”

“And then there are those who testified against me in the wake of me murdering your parents, some of whom didn’t even get a prison sentence.”

Harry shrugged. “So?”

“I take it you know Severus Snape,” Riddle said with a smirk, and Harry felt his entire world come crashing down like a lorry hitting him somewhere in the gut. “He is your chemistry professor, isn’t he?”

“Y-yes,” Harry said stiffly.

“He wasn’t too pleased about the murder of James Potter and Lily Evans,” Riddle said, rolling his eyes in a disdainful manner. “Too sensitive, that one, if you ask me. Anyhow, he testified against me, his charges were dropped, and your precious little headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, offered him a position at Wartsmoth.”

Harry found a tremor surging through him then, and he gripped onto the table. “You’re lying to me, Tom,” he told him, but his voice betrayed him.

“Check the papers or the court transcripts if you don’t believe me, or ask people who were involved directly, or read some of the newspaper headlines,” Riddle replied with a small shrug at that. “It’s the truth.”

“You’re lying.”

Riddle shook his head, growing bored with Harry’s reluctance to believe him. “From what I recall, Severus was quite enraged when he heard about your birth,” he observed.

Harry’s blood ran cold. “What are you talking about?” he demanded. “Sure, my dad tortured him plenty growing up, but that doesn’t mean he’d actually...”

“He was in love with your mother, Potter, get that through your thick head,” Riddle said, the last of his patience gone.

Harry felt a sudden burst of breath surge its way out of his lungs. “No. No, you’re lying. He didn’t love my mother, he—”

Riddle chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, dear. He must’ve gotten lost in those eyes of yours. Tell me, what is it like to seduce your professor?”

“Shut up!” Harry screamed, his voice echoing off the walls of the small room, and the guard looked up from the magazine he’d been reading. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about what’s between us—!”

Riddle chuckled, cutting Harry off. “It’s plain to see when attraction is there, young Potter. I should think you’re not far off from falling in love with Severus.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Harry growled back.

Riddle rolled his eyes. “They called me ‘The Killer Incapable of Love’ in all the papers,” he said with a slight wave of his hand. “I may not know how to love, Harry, but I certainly am intelligent enough to know what it looks like. Especially when dear, sweet, Lily Potter threw herself in front of you...”

“Shut up,” Harry said through gritted teeth.

“But this is what you wanted, isn’t it, Harry?” Riddle asked, his voice now as sweet as a snake’s hiss as he looked Harry up and down; yes, it had been far too easy to get a rise out of the teenager, but it was the most fun he’d had in years, locked up in here. “You wanted to know the circumstances, and here I am, giving them to you. Come, now, Harry,” he went on, his patience waning again, “the niceties must be observed. Dumbledore wouldn’t want you to forget your manners, now would he?”

Harry somehow managed to reel in his temper. “Yes,” he muttered.

“’Atta boy, Harry,” Riddle said, looking as if he would clap, were it not for his hands shackled to the tabletop. “Your parents would be proud, especially your filthy mongrel mother.”

“_Don’t_ you talk about my mother!” Harry shot back.

Riddle tutted under his breath. “Oh, Harry. I had hoped we had reached an understanding. I had hoped your desire to know the truth about what happened that night would outweigh your desire to be rude to me.”

Harry scoffed then; he didn’t need this, any of it, because, at the end of the day, all Riddle wanted to do was use him for his sick entertainment. “Guard!” he called, getting to his feet. “I’m done here, thanks.”

The guard heaved himself off from the opposite wall, and rolled up the magazine in his hand and moved to walk after Harry towards the exit.

“They were after me,” Riddle said then, and Harry held up a hand.

“Hold on, please,” he said, and turned back to Riddle. “What do you mean?”

“They worked for the government,” Riddle continued. “Your paternal grandparents were ill, and so James and Lily agreed to step in for them on a temporary basis, to look at the case they were working on with fresh eyes.”

Harry blinked. “My grandparents were ill?”

“Died soon after, tragic,” Riddle said, not sounding apologetic at all. “Anyhow, they cracked the case as to where I was hiding. They were just waiting for the approval on the unit to trash my hiding spot.”

“But, they were in hiding,” Harry replied, stepping closer.

Riddle nodded once. “Yes. Your grandparents, Fleamont and Euphemia—bloody unfortunate names, I know, I think they were hippies—had quite a few enemies. When your parents were married, they were automatically put into hiding at one of the Potter properties so as to preserve the good Potter name. Pettigrew was a double agent, working for me the entire time, and he was the one, as I’m sure you’re aware, who tipped me off before the unit approval was given. The call came through in the morning, you know, that the request for a unit to search my property had been approved. They ransacked it almost immediately after my arrest, getting some of my men—Augustus Rookwood, Igor Karkaroff, and Fenrir Greyback, to name a few. Good men, they were, good men...”

“Why did you do it?” Harry asked, his voice soft, and Riddle inclined his head. “No, I know why you killed my parents, it makes sense now—from your point of view, at least. But why did you take this turn in life? You could’ve been using your influence for good, and, instead, you became a criminal. Why would you do this, all of this?”

Riddle shrugged then, stiffening at the shackles as they rubbed too closely to his wrists, but then smirked, and Harry realized that he enjoyed a bit of pain. “Why does anyone do anything like this, Potter? The answer is simple. Power.”

. . . 

Monday had finally arrived, and Severus had dreaded facing Harry all weekend. They hadn’t spoken much since their encounter in the classroom just two and a half weeks before, and even before that, they hadn’t spoken. Severus hated himself for feeling this way; of course, his share of lovers over the years had always been men, and they had gotten younger once he had reached his mid-thirties, but the youngest of them had been twenty-one. He’d never gone after a teenager since he’d been one, and certainly never one of his own students. Harry was sixteen, which was the explicit age of consent but, with his evident trauma, Severus still felt as if he should’ve been the adult, and pushed him away when he had the chance to do so.

Severus shuffled his lesson plan for chemistry that day; it was Monday, so it was held as the first class after lunch, just like Wednesday and Friday. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, chemistry was held in the morning, and at the end of the day respectively. It was a jumble for everyone towards the beginning of the year but, now that January was in full-swing, Severus was confident that his students knew where to be and when. That day, they would begin their lessons on chemical bonding, which Severus wanted to finish by the end of the week, with an exam on Friday, and an essay, due the following Monday.

Class was due to begin in twenty minutes, and Severus let out a low grumble when the phone on his desk rang. Rolling his eyes, he lifted the oversized contraption to his ear, and opened his mouth to speak into it. “Hello?”

“Ah, Severus,” said Albus’s lyrical voice on the other end. “I wanted to speak to you over the weekend regarding something important but, as you know, Aberforth had to take care of Ariana in hospital, and he needed someone to tend to his goats.”

Severus wrinkled his nose at the mention of his boss’s odd family; when Albus was a teenager, his sister, Ariana, who was just a girl at the time, had been assaulted by some neighborhood boys and, in retaliation, their father, Percival, had murdered them all. With the patriarch of the Dumbledore family spending the rest of his life in prison, it fell to the children’s mother, Kendra, to try and pull things together, by relocating them to another neighborhood, where she became a secretary at local office to make ends’ meet. Ariana, the youngest, was a disturbed little thing, and she accidentally pushed their mother down the stairs one day, killing her when she was still a pre-teen. Custody went to Albus, who was eighteen, but Aberforth, who was sixteen, wanted custody, but Albus informed him that he would have to finish his education first. Then came the rumors that Albus was planning to travel the world with his secret lover, Gellert Grindelwald, who became Britain’s most notorious serial killer before Tom Riddle, and Aberforth had broken Albus’s nose, secured custody of Ariana, and had gone to school to learn business, before opening the Warthog’s Tusk Inn in Aberdeen.

“It’s no trouble, Albus,” Severus told him, knowing that Ariana was still very important to both brothers, despite her disturbed nature.

“Thank you, Severus,” Albus replied. “Anyhow, I wanted to debrief you on something that happened to Harry over the weekend. I’ve already informed Minerva, Filius, and Pomona about it, all with Remus’s permission.”

“Is everything all right with him?” Severus asked, silently cursing himself for having the courage to sound concerned.

“With his therapist’s recommendation, and my permission, Harry traveled to Strangeways on Friday morning, which is why he wasn’t in classes that day,” Albus said softly.

“Strangeways?!” Severus demanded; he was not an idiot, despite his recent actions, and knew full well who was locked up there, and had been for fifteen years. “What the devil was he—?!”

“I think you can figure out that one, Severus,” Albus went on, his tone calm. “Harry merely wanted some answers, answers that only Riddle could give him.”

“Did the wolf go with him?” Severus growled.

“Now, now, Severus,” Albus said, tutting slightly, “I thought that we agreed to let that nickname die long ago.”

“Your request for me to kill it doesn’t mean that I’m going to listen to you,” Severus countered with annoyance. “Besides, name calling is decidedly low on the list of bullying traits. You know full well what Potter, Black, Pettigrew, and Lupin put me through...”

“Yes, but if I recall correctly, Remus was a mere bystander during the said bullying. And, if I also recall, he’s apologized plenty of times over the years.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Be that as it may,” he said, and didn’t continue.

“Anyhow,” Albus said, listening to the silence on the other end of the telephone call, “attempt to be a bit gentler with Harry, all right? I spoke to him last night, and he’s understandably a bit shaken because of the events on Friday morning.”

Severus sneered. “I am never not gentle, Albus.”

“Even I know that’s not true, Severus.”

Severus cut the call shortly thereafter, scanning his lecture notes on chemical bonding, and kept his fingers mentally crossed that Weasley, or any of the other Warthogs, for that matter, would make immature remarks on ‘noble gases’. As Co-Head of Moth House, a position he shared with Pomona Sprout, they were a bit more firm when it came to discipline, while Minerva and Filius, as Co-Heads of Warthog House, were a bit more lax; Minerva, however, had her firm side, and had to, given that she was Deputy Headmistress as well.

Severus stood by the chalkboard as class time arrived, hearing the students filing in behind him as he wrote down some notes they absolutely had to have about chemical bonds. Peering over his shoulder once he’d finished, he spotted Harry entering the room with Weasley and Granger; there was no denying that Harry was an attractive young man, only a blind fool would deny such a thing. The notion that he was his student, and a teenager, continued eating away at him as he began the lecture; almost like clockwork, Weasley laughed at the ‘noble gases’ portion, but he was pleased to see that Granger was elbowing him into line, although it didn’t appear to be as passionate as her usual corrective treatment was.

Once the lecture portion of the class was complete, Severus assigned a short quiz at the end of class and, as expected, nearly all the Warthogs grumbled and complained about their apparent predicament. Nevertheless, Severus passed out the quizzes—only five or so questions—and gave the remaining twenty minutes to the class to complete them. Since they’d only begun studying the topic that day, the notes they’d taken over the course of the lecture were permitted, but no textbooks, and Severus immediately began erasing the board once the quizzes had been passed out, wanting for the students to be marked on their merits alone.

Once the twenty minutes were through, he got to his feet, and washed his hands from the red pen he’d used to mark the Year Eleven biology tests he’d given the Friday before. “Class, you may hand in your quizzes now,” Severus intoned, and Granger took both Harry and Weasley’s tests and brought them to the drop box on the edge of Severus’s desk. “You are all excused, save for Potter. Potter, stay a bit, please.”

Harry was shocked at this display, and nodded for Ron and Hermione to leave without him, with Hermione telling him she would let Professor McGonagall know that he was on the way to history class. Once they were gone, Harry got to his feet, fumbling with the strap of his bag as he faced his chemistry professor. “How may I help you, professor?”

“I had a call from the headmaster shortly before class,” Severus replied. “I was surprised to learn that the reason behind your missing Fridays lessons was because you’d gone to Strangeways. Is it true, then? You saw Riddle?”

Harry felt his mouth form into a thin line. “Yes.”

“Am I correct in assuming you journeyed alone?”

Harry gave a stiff nod. “I did. Ron and Hermione couldn’t miss class, too, and it was much too late for Remus to get a fill-in professor. He did drop me off at the station, however, and was there to pick me up once I returned. And, besides, there was a guard with me and Riddle the entire time. I was hardly in any danger, and I can handle myself.”

“I never insinuated that you couldn’t, Harry.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “If you say so, professor.”

“Harry, despite recent...situations, I am still your professor. As such, I expect you to treat me with respect when you are in my classroom.”

Harry crossed his arms. “You mean, when my tongue isn’t in your mouth, or my lips aren’t wrapped around your cock?”

Severus felt his cheeks flush then. “We won’t discuss those things, Harry.”

“You said you wanted me,” Harry whispered.

Severus sighed. “Right now, I want to know what happened with Riddle.”

Harry gritted his teeth. “Oh? Because you’re not loyal to him any longer, and now, all these years later, you wish to change that? Was it because of my mum that you decided not to play a part in his cause anymore?!” he demanded.

Severus blinked, shocked at the information that Harry now had. “Harry, what you’ve got to understand here is...”

“You _loved_ her, Riddle said so!” Harry cried out then, hating it when his eyes filled with tears and his voice shook. “You were in love with my mum, and you still let me...”

“Harry, please listen to me...”

“No!” shouted Harry, backing away from him, and using his bag as a barrier between the two of them. “No, I don’t want to hear anything from a coward like you!” he yelled, before he ran out of the room, and didn’t look back.

. . .

In the wake of Hermione going into Edinburgh and to Lovecrumbs, a local and quirky tea shop that many Wartsmoth students liked, with Anthony Goldstein for Valentine’s Day, things had certainly heated up between the couple. When she wasn’t spending time with Harry, avoiding Ron, or studying for her lessons, the pair were always seen together, reading poetry to one another, going for romantic strolls and holding hands, or, perhaps, snogging in the more intimate corridors of the school.

Harry was only too pleased for Hermione to have found happiness, as he believed Anthony to be a good bloke who would treat her right. They were constantly debating on whether or not Tolstoy, Chekov, or Dostoevsky were the best Russian literature authors, if narrative or descriptive essays were more beneficial, or if King George the Third had truly lost America as it gained leverage in the Revolutionary War. The thing that made Harry most pleased is that Hermione didn’t constantly want him to enter into these debates anymore, and yet he was more than content to listen Hermione and Anthony debate amongst themselves.

“He’s _wonderful_,” gushed Hermione on Monday night, just before they were due to collect their chemistry essays, five days after Valentine’s Day. “He keeps bringing me flowers, or sometimes he’ll bring me rare books that I’ll mention randomly, and he’ll end up finding them for me. I know he needs time with Zacharias Smith, being that they’re best friends and all, and I understand it, really I do, because Tony respects that I need time with you.”

Harry nodded. “I agree. Tony’s a really nice guy, Hermione. I’m glad you found someone who has a lot of common interests in you.” They turned a corner and headed for the staircase leading into the basement. “What book did he find for you this time?”

“_The Codex of Leicester_,” Hermione replied dreamily. “It’s a scientific work by Leonardo da Vinci that was published back in 1510.”

Harry blinked. “That’s in Italian, isn’t it?”

Hermione grinned. “It is. I learned the summer between Year Eight and Year Nine after going on holiday there with Mum and Dad. It’s a beautiful language. Tony and I speak to one another in Italian sometimes. It’s terribly romantic, and not many people know what we’re saying, which is a definite benefit.”

Harry nodded, remembering Hermione telling both him and Ron about the trip, as well as the Pastiglie Leone candies she’d bought for Ron, and the white ceramic owl she’d gotten for him, which he’d affectionately called Hedwig. “It looks like a beautiful place. I’d like to do some traveling one day.”

“Maybe Remus will take you somewhere, or you could just go on your own, now that you’re free from... Surrey,” she said softly.

Harry smiled at the thought of it. “Yeah, I think I might just do that.”

They made the rest of the way towards the classroom; it was just before dinner, and they were instructed to pick up their essays before going to eat. Harry and Hermione stepped into the classroom, with Severus handing over her essay—_Excellent_ for Hermione, as always, and, for Harry, a _Fail_.

Harry turned to look at Hermione as they stood in the hallway outside of the classroom. “I’ll catch up with you at the canteen, ‘Mione. I have a question about my grade.”

Hermione nodded in understanding. “I’ll save a seat for you with Tony and me.”

Harry swallowed. “Thanks,” he called after her. He lingered in the hallway, waiting for the other members of the class to leave, before he walked into the room and advanced upon the desk, and slammed his essay down—screw pleasantries.

“That’s not the way to get what you want, Mr. Potter.”

“Oh, so we’re back to the formalities, then, sir?” he demanded.

Severus sighed. “I won’t do this with you.”

“Won’t do what with me? I think we’ve established the fact that our relationship is a special one, isn’t it, professor?”

Severus rolled his eyes, crossing the room and shutting the door behind Harry. “What is your question, then, Harry?”

“Why do you continue failing me?!” Harry demanded. “I study hard, I take notes, I answer questions correctly in class... What’s the barrier here? What’s wrong with my essays that they never seem up to par?”

“You need to read between the lines, Harry.”

“Oh, I see,” Harry said sarcastically. “So, because I didn’t suck your cock right, you’ve decided that petty revenge is the best way to go here?”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “That’s not what we’re talking about, Harry.”

“Then _explain_ it to me,” Harry begged. “I’m tired of living like this—of feeling like there should be something between us, and there’s not. Please... Just please, let me know that I’m not going mad all over again.”

“We’ve firmly established that you’re not mad, Harry.”

“You admitted to wanting me,” Harry whispered, as he’d done the last time they’d had a one-on-one conversation. “Why do you keep holding back?”

“Because my job and your future is at stake here, Harry,” Severus replied, and Harry’s eyes promptly locked with his. “You won’t have a decent future if you don’t pay attention to the readings in your textbook. It’s all in the footnotes, you know, where the test questions come from, at the end of the day.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about a future without you, Severus.”

Severus sighed. “We’re still not talking about that.”

Harry nodded. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll look more closely at the footnotes from now on.” He turned around then, and made to leave the classroom.

“Harry, if we could have a word about what Riddle said to you...”

“No,” Harry said, his voice firm, but Severus could tell, even though he couldn’t see his face, that he was holding back tears. “No, I... I don’t want to discuss it with you, Severus. You seem to have made up your mind where we stand and I... I don’t want to continue to put myself out there, because I’ve been hurt so much in my life. I don’t know how much more pain I can actually take for the duration of my school years,” he whispered, his voice breaking at the end as genuine sadness seeped through his very being, before he opened the door, just as Severus moved to go to him, and shut it behind him, leaving the chemistry professor utterly alone, knowing full well that it was his move, should he choose to take it.


	7. When I Look Into Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t care about a future without you, Severus.”
> 
> Severus sighed. “We’re still not talking about that.”
> 
> Harry nodded. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll look more closely at the footnotes from now on.” He turned around then, and made to leave the classroom.
> 
> “Harry, if we could have a word about what Riddle said to you...”
> 
> “No,” Harry said, his voice firm, but Severus could tell, even though he couldn’t see his face, that he was holding back tears. “No, I... I don’t want to discuss it with you, Severus. You seem to have made up your mind where we stand and I... I don’t want to continue to put myself out there, because I’ve been hurt so much in my life. I don’t know how much more pain I can actually take for the duration of my school years,” he whispered, his voice breaking at the end as genuine sadness seeped through his very being, before he opened the door, just as Severus moved to go to him, and shut it behind him, leaving the chemistry professor utterly alone, knowing full well that it was his move, should he choose to take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well now that we've (at this moment, at the very least) reached the halfway point of the story, I figured I'd give you a taste of what was to come. Harry and Severus lose their control slightly - again. Let's see how this all pans out! Have fun, my lovelies!

Harry somehow managed to keep mum about the latest developments regarding Stephen—his fake name for Severus within the therapy sessions—to Amelia when they met the following afternoon. Instead, he talked about how since Ron had paired up with Lavender, that his best friend didn’t seem to have time for him anymore. By the same token, he mentioned how considerate Hermione had been, in the wake of her relationship with Anthony, and how she always was sure to make time for him.

Ron’s seventeenth birthday was the next significant event on the books and, in the weeks leading up to it, Hermione helped Harry with his chemistry reading and notes. Once he read the footnotes and brushed up on his notetaking skills while in class, and read the portions in the textbook that Hermione mentioned would be beneficial, he felt more confident as time went by. In fact, he was no longer failing his papers; he was getting _Very Good_ written at the tops of his papers now. He found that it didn’t even bother him that Hermione was still getting _Excellent_; this meant that, when it was time to take his A-Levels a year later, if he kept this up, then he would be on track to get into a halfway decent university.

Ron’s birthday fell on a Saturday, and so Harry, Ron, Hermione, Lavender, Ginny, Dean, Luna, Neville, Seamus, Rolf, and Anthony all ended up journeying down to the pier not too far away from Wartsmoth. Fred and George joined them, leaving London for the day, and got them into the restaurant that was close by. Once they got to the restaurant on the pier, they ate fish and chips wrapped in newspaper around the firepit outside, and smelled the sea air. It was an unseasonably warm late-winter evening, and they all watched the sunset together as they all toasted Ron, celebrating him turning seventeen.

The owners knew Fred and George from their time at Wartsmoth, and, provided that they acted responsibly, permitted their party some bottles of beer that evening. The Wartsmoth campus was only about a fifteen minute walk from the restaurant, so it wasn’t as if they’d be operating any heavy machinery that night. They passed around the dark-brown bottles of Belhaven Scottish Oat Snout, recalling amusing memories associated with Ron as they lounged around the firepit on the beach, Trinity Crescent, as they watched the waves lap up soundlessly onto the sands’ edge.

“Won-Won, how about a game?” Lavender asked after a few moments of silence, and snuggled closer to Ron. “I’ll bet even Granger would like one,” she sneered.

“All right,” Ron said, taking a sip of beer, and Harry turned to Hermione, who snuggled in closer to Anthony at the comment from Lavender.

“You’ve got to go first, Ron,” Fred said.

“After all,” George continued, “you’re the birthday boy.”

Ron rolled his eyes at his brothers, and drank deeply from his beer bottle. “Fine,” he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and sat up. “Harry, truth or dare?”

Harry rolled his eyes, gripping his bottle tightly. “Truth.”

“How many times did you snog my sister?”

Ginny flushed. “Ron!” she shouted.

“Hey, I don’t mind if Harry doesn’t,” Dean said with a shrug, as Harry had told him of his preferences shortly before the Christmas holidays.

Ginny huffed slightly, leaning back towards Dean, who put an arm around her shoulders. “Well, all right. As long as Harry doesn’t mind.”

Harry sighed. “Fine,” he said, swirling his beer in its bottle. “Five or six, maybe? I’m not really a hundred-percent...”

Ron gave a nod. “Fair enough. Your turn, Harry.”

Harry swallowed another mouthful of beer before turning to Fred. He was plenty buzzed now, and knew that ‘reckless’ was not something he should be participating in, however, he was a teenager, and he wanted to live a little. “Fred, truth or dare?”

Fred laughed. “Dare.”

Harry grinned mirthlessly then. “I dare you to snog George.”

Fred turned to George, who looked equally amused. “Well, brother?” he asked.

George shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said.

Harry’s jaw dropped then as Fred yanked George into a tight embrace, and their lips seemed to meet almost instantly. He looked around, to see that Lavender looked slightly horrified, Ginny and Dean looked embarrassed and mortified respectively, Neville looked bemused, Hermione and Anthony were shocked, Luna and Rolf didn’t appear to care one way or the other, and Ron... Well, Ron, he...

“Really?!” Ron demanded, his eyes blazing. “It was bad enough when I had to cover for you both with Mum and Dad, but this is—”

“Oh, calm down, little brother,” George said, breaking his kiss with Fred, who lay his head down on his twins’ shoulder.

“Right. It’s not all bad...”

“It’s a crime!” Lavender squawked. “Not that Granger would think so...”

Fred rolled his eyes. “Can it, Lav-Lav,” he said, and Lavender flushed, but lowered her eyes, and Hermione was, at last, amused. “All right, then. Luna, truth or dare?”

Luna smiled. “Truth.”

“What are your plans after graduation?”

“You mean, besides marrying Rolf?” she asked, and Rolf put his hand in hers. “Probably something to do with wildlife conservation. I’ve been looking into attending National University of Ireland in Galway.”

“Nice,” Fred said with a nod. “Your turn, Luna.”

“Very well,” Luna replied. “Hermione, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Hermione said.

“This should prove to be interesting,” Lavender said softly, the snide comment not lost on either Harry or Anthony, but Luna spoke again, preventing them from calling her out.

“I dare you to tell us how far have you and Anthony gone,” Luna said quietly.

Hermione swallowed, flushing slightly as she turned to Anthony. “I... I don’t want to presume that you wouldn’t...”

“It’s all right,” Anthony said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “They’re our friends. If you’re comfortable, I don’t mind them knowing.”

“They haven’t done a bloody thing,” Lavender put in, and Hermione’s jaw set. “It’s perfectly obvious how _virtuous_ Granger is.”

“Just oral sex,” Hermione said softly, raising her eyes to look at Luna, and Harry marveled at the pride in her body language and voice as she did so.

“_What_?!” Ron demanded, and Lavender turned to Ron, glaring at him.

“That’s wonderful, Hermione,” Luna said, smiling at her.

“Ginny next, I think,” Hermione said, turning to her and ignoring both Ron and Lavender. “Truth or dare.”

“Dare,” Ginny said with a grin.

“Are you in love with Dean?” Hermione asked.

Ginny bit her lip, an attractive blush creeping up from her neck and spreading to her cheeks, as Dean kept his eyes on her the entire time. “Yes,” she said quietly.

Dean beamed at the declaration from her and squeezed her hand, prompting Ginny to raise her eyes to his. “I love you, too, Gin,” he said.

Ginny let out a squeal and promptly threw her arms around Dean, snogging him for all he was worth, before coming up for air. “Um... Rolf, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Rolf said.

“Where’s the strangest place you and Luna have hooked up?”

Rolf smirked as Luna giggled at that. “Let’s see... On or off-campus?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ginny replied. “Either, or both.”

“On-campus would’ve probably been... Where would you say it was, Luna? The outdoor art studio?” he asked with a grin.

Luna nodded. “Oh, yes. Right before my class, when you were Professor Trelawney’s assistant last spring.”

“And off-campus?” Ginny asked.

“Her father’s office in London,” Rolf replied. “He was late for meeting us for lunch; he was out researching another paper for _The Pipistrelle_ and we just felt...frisky.”

“When was this?” Dean wanted to know.

Luna grinned. “Over the Christmas hols,” she replied with a shrug.

“When did you first have sex?” Harry queried.

“The summer after I turned fourteen,” Luna said. “So, it would have been in July of 1995. I just missed him so much...”

“And I missed her,” Rolf put in.

“So, I went to go and see his family in Ireland, and it just happened,” Luna finished. “Not that I would take it back.”

Rolf shook his head, and pressed a kiss to Luna’s temple. “Never,” he said softly. He thought about it for a moment before he surveyed the crowd. “George, truth or dare.”

“Truth,” George said.

“Do Angelina and Lee know about your...inclinations towards Fred?”

George shrugged. “I honestly have no idea. I think they both suspect. I mean, we’re essentially the same person,” he said, turning to Fred. “Have you...?”

“No,” Fred said gently. “And I doubt I ever will. Not many people would readily wish to understand what this pain is.”

“Constant pain,” George said, leaning closer to Fred. He sighed, seeming to be more secure beside Fred, and spoke again. “Neville, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Neville replied.

“Are you seeing anyone?” George asked.

Neville nodded. “Yeah. We’ve been together since September. I... I would prefer not to have to reveal their identity, however...”

George nodded back at him. “That’s your business, Neville.”

Neville smiled. “Thank you.” He sighed, mulling over a question for a moment before he turned and looked at Seamus. “Seamus, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Seamus said.

“I dare you to snog Lavender!” Neville said, and Harry grinned, unknowing what would happen, given that Seamus had harbored feelings for her since they were fourteen.

Seamus flushed red to his ears and looked at Ron, who shrugged, and then at Lavender, who looked shocked at his reaction. Seamus got to his feet then, crossing beside the fire and towards Lavender, whereupon he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. He kissed her, a little less chastely than Harry thought was appropriate, but let her go a moment later and returned to his spot in the circle. “Right, then,” Seamus muttered, his confident Irish lilt now slightly serious and muffled. “Anthony, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Anthony said.

“How long have you known that Zacharias is in love with you?” he asked.

Anthony sighed, shaking his head. “Since we were thirteen,” he said softly, and Hermione gently carded her fingers through his hair. “I told him that we were best mates and nothing more, but I think I’ll have to remind him a few more times.”

Seamus nodded. “Fair enough.”

Anthony surveyed the guests for a moment. “Lavender, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” she said with a smile.

“How long are you going to continue to be mean to Hermione?” he asked calmly.

Lavender went white. “I... I wasn’t...”

“Yes, you were,” Harry said, and Anthony shot him a smile. “Clearly, you’re threatened by something, so why don’t you grow up and say why, or drop it?”

Lavender narrowed her eyes. “What I really want to know is what she’s doing here!” she yelled out then, jabbing a finger in Hermione’s direction.

“With that attitude, I might ask you the same question,” Hermione countered.

Lavender straightened up then, her eyes never leaving Hermione’s. “I happen to be his girlfriend!” she said, entitlement rippling through her voice.

“Well, I happen to be his... Friend,” Hermione said softly.

“Don’t make me laugh,” Lavender said. “You haven’t spoken in weeks.”

“It’s rather difficult to do so, considering that you’re acting like a complete and total succubus and not permitting anyone other than Harry near him,” Hermione said levelly.

“I’ll not sit here and permit such things said to me!” Lavender cried out.

“Fine,” Hermione said, lowering her beer bottle into the sand and got to her feet, Anthony and Harry immediately mimicking her movements. “I’m done anyhow,” she said, and took off into the night.

“Mate,” Ron said, calling out to Harry, who had gone after Hermione and Anthony.

“No,” Harry said firmly. “Until you ditch _that_,” he said, referring to Lavender with a wave of his head, “I’m with Hermione on this one.”

As Harry moved to leave the party, he heard Fred, George, Neville, Ginny, and Dean all getting up and leaving. Luna and Rolf left the scene as well; the only person remaining behind seemed to be Seamus, his unrequited love for Lavender knowing no bounds. Harry fell into step with Neville as they walked back to the school; Fred and George had already taken a taxi, and Ginny, Dean, Rolf, and Luna had caught up to Hermione and Anthony.

“I know,” Harry said quietly.

“What?” Neville asked.

“You don’t need to hide it around me, Nev,” Harry said gently with a smile.

“Hide what?”

Harry sighed. “Your preferences,” he explained.

Neville went white. “How did you...?”

“Because I’ve got them, too,” Harry said gently, knocking Neville’s shoulder good-naturedly with his, and Neville breathed a sigh of relief.

“Don’t tell anyone, all right? It’s not that I’m not all right with it, but I’m not ready for people to know just yet.”

Harry nodded. “Hey, it’s your call,” he said quietly. “I’m not ready for anyone to know just yet either. Hell, I haven’t even told Ron...”

“You told me before Ron?” Neville asked. “Why?”

“Because, Nev, you understand it. I don’t know how much he will, especially when he knows who I’ve been wanting, all this time.”

Neville nodded. “Same here,” he said softly, as they continued down the darkened footpath, all the way back to school.

. . .

Sessions with Amelia continued throughout the month of March; she was pleased that both Harry and Anthony had stood up for Hermione’s well-being, and doing what they thought was right that evening of Ron’s birthday. She wanted Harry to be careful about his alcohol consumption but, given that he hadn’t had very much that evening, and was merely being a boisterous teenager at the time, she’d let it slide. Plus, she knew he was doing so with Remus’s permission that night, so there was naught to complain about.

Harry frequented study meetings with Hermione on days leading up to particularly important assignments in chemistry. He was thankful that Anthony seemed to understand his struggles with the subject, and encouraged the study meetings. They would flit through the shelves, attempting to dissuade the wrath of Ms. Pince, the librarian, who had a great-uncle somewhere who had been a knight and, as such, attempted to intimidate students to address her as ‘Madam’ as opposed to ‘Ms.’.

“He is at perfect liberty to see whomever he likes,” Hermione said one afternoon, about two and a half weeks after the party. “I _really _couldn’t care less.”

Harry sighed. “That might be the case, ‘Mione, but the way that Ron’s intended treats you is another matter entirely.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, stomping into a line of shelves and returning a book onto a particularly high one before snatching out another one. “I hardly see how that matters to Ron, don’t you? Considering she’s running her hands all over him at any given turn, not really caring who happens to walk by...”

Harry crossed his arms, leaning against the shelves opposite Hermione. They were in the science portion of the library, in the physics session; Harry knew full well how Hermione tended to read ahead when she was anxious or upset about something. “So, I take it you haven’t told him what happened in the wake of the party?”

Hermione stiffened as she whirled around to face Harry; she was gripping a copy of _Introduction to Electrodynamics_ by David J. Griffiths, and was trembling all over, so much so that the thick volume nearly slipped from her fingers. “No,” she managed, her voice wavering. “But I hardly think that it’s any of his business.”

Harry gave a slow nod at that. “No, of course it’s not. I’m just worried that Parvati or Padma saw or heard something. They’re Lavender’s best friends, you know, and love to gossip as much as she does. One false move, and Lavender knows, then Ron knows, and, pretty soon, all of Wartsmoth will know, ‘Mione.”

Hermione swallowed. “I just hope that all of this ends well, you know?”

“Meaning what?”

Hermione hugged the book to her chest. “I... I don’t know,” she said at last. “I’m used to having an answer for everything. Now, I’m not too sure what tomorrow will bring.” She turned and looked out the large windows just opposite them, at the end of the aisle. “Is it wrong that I don’t have an answer, Harry?” she whispered.

Harry shook his head. “No, of course not. I’m just shocked that it took so long for you not to know something,” he admitted.

She worried her lower lip then, tilting her head back. “And... How are things with him?” she wanted to know, her voice quiet.

Harry swallowed. “Non-existent.”

Hermione turned slightly then, brown eyes meeting green. “I can’t believe that, Harry. I know there’s something there.”

Harry sighed. “I thought so, too.”

Hermione pushed herself upwards from the shelves then, and crossed so that she was standing right next to Harry, a worried expression on her face. “Please... Tell me he didn’t ruin things.”

Harry pulled his lower lip into his mouth, biting down on it as he shook his head. “No, ‘Mione, he didn’t ruin things.”

Hermione shook her head. “Then, what happened?”

“I happened,” Harry said simply. “I’m just a freak who wrecks things, remember? Why did I even think that getting the man I want would be any easier? I’m me,” he said, his tone dark and gloomy, and Hermione squeezed his shoulder, unaware how to draw him out of this funk as much as she knew her next step in life.

. . . 

In the wake of the news that Bill had written to Ron, informing him that Fleur had given birth to a healthy daughter whom they’d named Victoire Jolie Weasley, Bill also informed his youngest brother that, as he and Fleur had been staying with Arthur and Molly at the time, that they would be remaining for a week or so, so as Molly could help Fleur in getting used to motherhood. Ron came to Harry with the letter, along with the invitation to go to Devon for the weekend to meet his niece.

“Sure, I’ll go, mate,” Harry replied. “Just got to ask Remus.”

“Tell Remus he’s invited, too,” Ron informed him.

Friday arrived and, after classes, Remus, Harry, and Ron went to the train station to catch a train from Edinburgh to Devon. Classes had gotten out earlier than usual—well, for Harry and Ron, at least, and Remus had cut his final lessons short—so as they wouldn’t be arriving too late. The train was over seven hours long, and Arthur was fetching them on the other side; they would be arriving there a bit after eight, so there would be time for a late dinner, some socializing, and then it would be time for bed.

Remus left the train compartment once they’d settled in and left the station, to rustle them up a worthy snack and to see if he could get a place with decent reception to call Dora. Harry sat back on the comfortable bench-like seat, and stared out at the barren terrain. Although spring had officially sprung, the branches were bare, the bushes were sparse, and the grass had yet to return to its lush green tint.

“Mate?”

“Hmmm?” Harry answered back. Ever since Ron’s party at the beginning of the month, Harry had spent the vast majority of his time with Hermione, or studying like mad for chemistry midterms, which were coming up in a week or so.

“You ever think about having kids? A family?”

Harry sighed; he really didn’t want to talk about the romantic aspects of his future, or anything connected to it, not now. Of course, Harry did want children, but he wasn’t keen on opening up to Ron just yet. “I think I should get through the rest of Wartsmoth and graduate from university and settle in a career before I even consider that stage in my life, Ron.”

Ron pulled a face. “Hermione get to you, did she?”

Harry’s eyes flashed to Ron’s. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Don’t know, mate. It’s just that you’re spending all your time with her lately, despite the fact that she’s got a bloke.”

Harry nipped at his lower lip. “Look, Ron, I don’t appreciate your double-meaning, here. Just spit out what you want to say.”

“All right, I’ll spit it out. But don’t expect me to be grateful that you’re ignoring me and going after Hermione like that.”

Harry blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re spending all your time with her!”

Harry leaned forward so that his elbows were positioned on his thighs. “Well, I’m sorry if you think that. I try to make plans with you, Ron, and have done for _weeks_, but you’re _always _with Lavender...”

“Oh, so now you’re jealous of me and Lav, then?”

Harry threw up his hands. “No, Ron! I’m not jealous of you and Lavender, or of Hermione and Tony either! I’m not jealous of either of your relationships!”

“Then, explain to me what’s going on here, mate! I don’t understand it. You’re either with Hermione or have your nose buried in your chemistry textbook. I’ll bet you even brought it with you for the weekend!”

Harry’s face flushed. “Drop it, Ron.”

“Why would I drop it?!” he demanded, launching to his feet, and barreling towards the upper crates within the compartment, where Harry had put his duffel, beside Remus’s.

Harry moved out of the way and attempted to yank Ron backwards. “Just let it alone, Ron!” he warned him. “Please!”

Ron managed to get ahold of Harry’s duffel with one hand, while the other batted Harry backwards. He unzipped the closest flap, and saw the chemistry textbook buried in Harry’s rush packing job, amongst the two spare pairs of jeans, some more formal trousers, button-downs, T-shirts which could double for sleep, and several pairs of socks and boxers. He made a grab for the book and tore it open, despite Harry’s verbal and physical protests, and thumbed through the pages, going into the back where a series of blank ones were, and scoured them, his eyes flashing with something unfamiliar to Harry.

“‘I don’t think I can take one more day of this. Someone’s bound to find this book, and discover my identity, as well as my hidden proclivities. I just can’t keep a handle on it anymore, and all I want to do is be true to myself. Why can’t we live in a world that wholly accepts people for the way they are? Why do they have to be cast in one mold and remain that way, despite centuries of innovation and growth? All I want is to be myself, to live out my desires and fantasies, not just professionally but on a personal level as well. If someone could actually see me for me, I would be forever grateful—’”

Harry yanked the book from Ron’s hands and slammed it shut, cradling it to his chest for a moment before he shoved it back into his duffel. He zipped up the zipper with trembling hands and couldn’t bear to face Ron, for his shoulders were trembling. The trembling shifted not just from his shoulders, but to his feet as well, and Harry was fairly sure he’d go tumbling everywhere if he even made a move to step in any direction.

“Is... Is this why it didn’t work out with Ginny?” Ron asked him softly as Harry gripped the crate from opposite him.

Harry swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Harry, it’s all right, you know,” Ron told him, his voice gentle. “Did you honestly think I’d have a problem with it? Two of my brothers are gay, and George is bisexual, despite his long-standing relationship with Angelina; I think he has to be a little bit gay, based on the feelings he has for Fred...”

Harry sighed, cutting Ron off. “Look, I... I didn’t want you to find out, Ron.”

“At all?” he demanded, shocked.

Harry shook his head as he finally regained his footing, and turned around. “No. I meant, I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

Ron rolled back on his heels for a moment. “I guess I can understand that. I’ve never had to come out, because I always knew I liked girls. I’m sorry if I made it difficult for you. I should’ve been there for you. I’m sorry I haven’t been.”

Harry sighed. “People know, Ron.”

“Yeah? Who?”

“Hermione, of course,” he replied, in an _It’s completely obvious_ tone. “And Dean knows, too. Luna and Rolf suspect, but I haven’t confirmed or denied it. Neville knows. And Ginny, given that I came out to her first. And then Remus and Dora know, obviously...and the guy I’m into...”

“Wait! You’re into someone?!” Ron asked, his eyes shining with delight. “This is great! This means we can go out on double dates!”

Harry shook his head, lowering himself back into his seat. “That’s not going to be possible, Ron, because the guy I like... It’s complicated.”

“How is it complicated?” Ron wanted to know, sitting across from him again.

“He’s not a student,” Harry said quietly.

“Does he go to uni?” Ron questioned.

Harry shook his head. “No. More complicated than that.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “So, we’re talking about an older bloke, then? Someone who doesn’t even go to school anymore?”

Harry nodded. “Exactly.”

“How... How much older is older?”

Harry swallowed. “Thirties,” he replied, not wanting to get into specifics.

“His _thirties_?! Blimey, mate. What have you been doing?”

Harry shook his head. “Nothing. I’ve been doing nothing, because he’s clearly not interested, and keeps pushing me away.”

Ron shook his head at his friend and sighed. “Anyone would be lucky to have you interested in them, mate. I just wish stuff was easier for you.”

Harry flashed him a small smile. “Thanks, Ron.”

“So... You and Hermione...?”

“She’s just helping me study, Ron,” Harry told her. “We’re best friends, just like you and me. I love her,” he went on, and Ron looked stricken, but Harry continued, “as a sister. I see her as a sister, and I reckon she feels the same way about me.”

Ron nodded. “All right. Sorry.”

Harry nodded back at him. “No problem.” He hesitated for a moment. “But, what about Lavender?” he asked him.

Ron sighed. “I’m glad to be well-shot of her this weekend,” he admitted.

Harry leaned back against his seat. “Well, maybe that’s something to think about. She’s been snogging you for the past five months, almost six. Maybe you need to really think about what you want here, mate.”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he admitted, and turned to look out at the landscape until Remus returned with some sandwiches for them, and an update on Dora, who was visiting her parents that weekend, and had offered to drive them back to the train station on Sunday, and return on the train with them, which was, of course, accepted.

. . .

Monday arrived, with Ron and Hermione burying the hatchet slightly so as he could show them the Polaroid’s he’d brought back of baby Victoire. Victoire had a dusting of blonde hair on her head, had her mother’s skin, but her father’s nose and mouth. Her eyes were a shining deep blue, which Fleur continually said would match the River Seine, and she was positively beaming as both Harry and Ron held her in turn. Ron was beaming when he returned to Wartsmoth with Harry and Remus late Sunday night, and informed their circle of friends that he’d been selected as godfather over the weekend, and would be going to France during a weekend in April to stand with the child during the baptismal, beside Gabrielle, Fleur’s little sister.

After dinner that evening, Harry was walking the hallways with Ron, Hermione, Dean, Ginny, Luna, and Rolf. It had been a pleasant day, and he’d gotten back another _Very Good_ essay from Severus earlier that afternoon. Severus had mentioned time and time again within the margins of his essays, homework assignments, and quizzes that his reading and understanding of the material had broadened that he would easily move on from chemistry to physics the following school year. He didn’t remember ever being so giddy over something before; in the wake of his meditation lessons going south with Severus, something about the man had called to him, and although he couldn’t put his finger on what it was at the time, he was slowly beginning to realize just how deep his feelings for his professor truly went.

Just as the septet wandered into the Warthog common area, they all mutually stopped in their tracks at the sight there was to see. Lying on the couch before the stone fireplace, were Neville and Draco, with Neville sprawled on top of the Moth, and Draco pulling Neville so that their bodies and lips were smashed together upon the crushed red velvet. There was a moment of silence until the door unexpectedly slammed shut behind them all, and Neville and Draco immediately broke apart, launching to their feet, each young man flushed all over their faces.

“I...” Neville began.

“We...” Draco tried.

“_This_ is who you’ve been seeing since September?!” Harry demanded. “The guy who’s made not only my life, but Hermione’s, and Ron’s, and Luna’s, and Ginny’s, and Rolf’s, and Dean’s life a complete and total living hell?!”

“Harry...” Neville began.

“No, _I’m_ talking!” Harry shouted. “He’s bullied me for having dead parents; bullied Hermione for not being as filthy rich as he is; bullied Ron for being poor; bullied Luna for being herself; bullied Ginny because she wouldn’t snog him because she was dating Michael Corner despite the fact that he was with Pansy at the time; bullied Rolf for being Irish; and Dean for being black! I mean... How_ can_ you, Neville?” Harry whispered. “Not to mention it was his aunt—yes, his _aunt_—who was responsible for...for...”

“Yes, Harry, my aunt,” Draco said softly, more civilly than he’d ever spoken to him. “I am not my aunt, Harry, just as you claim not to be your father. And as for my prior indiscretions against all of you—”

“Bullying!” Harry snapped, interrupting him, ignoring Neville’s look.

“Yes, that. As for my prior bullying tendencies against you, I offer you all my sincerest apologies. You see, my father he... He is not a nice man, if you recall correctly. He... He was manipulative and cruel, and if I didn’t do things for him, or act the way he wanted me to act, he would hurt me more than I ever did any of you.”

“What are you telling us here, Draco?” Hermione asked gently.

Neville took Draco’s hand, and when the latter squeezed it, Neville looked up at his friends, and answered for him. “Lucius Malfoy would abuse Draco sexually,” he said softly. “That’s why he went to prison last year. He got a lengthy jail sentence, all because Draco had the courage to speak up and let everyone know just how much of a monster he was.”

“I’m no longer going to be the man he wants me to be,” Draco told them all firmly. “And I want you to know that, not only am I sorry for my previous negative treatment of you, but I am madly in love with Neville, and I will never hurt him.”

Neville squeezed his hand and kissed Draco’s temple. “Not how I envisioned it happening, but, nevertheless, I’m glad it’s out in the open at last.”

Draco turned and stared at Neville, shocked. “What...? You mean...?”

“Yes,” Neville replied. “I love you, Draco Malfoy.”

Harry felt a lump rising in his throat then as he backed out of the room, and despite the various players of the situation calling out after him, he ignored the shouts. He ran from that floor all the way to the bottom of the castle, not even noticing the drop in temperature around him as he let himself into the chemistry classroom. He kicked the door shut behind him and looked around and, a moment later, the inner door opened, and Severus walked through it, his black eyes looking shocked to see Harry there so late.

“Harry, is everything—?”

Harry advanced upon Severus then, fear and terror and arousal in every step he took, as he threw his arms around his professor and kissed him deeply.

“Harry... Harry, maybe we...”

“Please,” Harry whispered, pressing his forehead against Severus’s. “I won’t tell anyone about this, I promise. Nobody has to know.”

Severus slowly permitted his hand around Harry, shaking as the inner workings of his mind wanted to give in to his baser desires and instincts. “Harry, I want you to understand that I don’t take any physical contact lightly...”

Harry swallowed. “You... You know the way I was hurt, correct?”

Severus nodded at him. “Yes.”

Harry dragged his tongue over his lower lip in contemplation. “And... And you were hurt in a similar way, weren’t you?”

Severus stiffened around him, but, nevertheless, answered the question. “I was.”

“Then you should know,” Harry said, locking his eyes onto Severus’s, “that I would never seek to hurt you in the way that you’ve been hurt in the past. I care about you, Severus, more than anything in my life. And I’ll never hurt you. I know it’s asking for a lot, but I really, really need you to trust me on this. I know it’s a lot to ask for, but I think if you could...”

Severus found he couldn’t stop himself any longer, and slammed his lips onto Harry’s, before parting them with his tongue, and Harry let out a soft moan at Severus’s movements. Severus pulled Harry closer, deeper into his arms, finding that he loved seizing control of the situation, and it made him unbelievably hard to do so. Gently, he pushed Harry backwards and slammed him up against one of the classroom bookshelves, pushing his body against Harry’s, and rubbing up and down like a dog in heat.

“Yes,” Harry whispered between kisses, wrapping his legs around Severus’s torso, which gave him leverage to pull him closer, lengthwise against him. “I know we can’t do more,” he whispered as Severus lowered his lips from his, and placed them at his neck, which he bit and suckled gently, “but just know this...”

“Anything, Harry, anything,” Severus whispered to him.

“Know how much I want this, want you,” Harry whispered, sticking his tongue out to taste the shell of Severus’s ear. “I don’t think this feeling will ever stop. I’ve wanted you since I was fifteen-years-old, and I don’t think I’ll ever...oh, fuck,” he whimpered as Severus smashed their erections together, “want anyone else...”

“Don’t say things you can’t possibly...”

“I _do_ mean it!” Harry declared, wrapping his arms around Severus’s neck and guiding his lips back to his. “Forever,” he told him.

A slight gasp escaped Severus’s throat then, but he pushed forward, grinding himself against Harry, getting as close as he could, while Harry moaned and wailed in his ear. It didn’t take long for their orgasms to meet, and they fell together, shouting each other’s names and becoming quite sticky in the process. Although it was difficult for him to do so, Severus held on tightly to Harry, and tried to regulate his heartbeat in the process.

“I... I can make no promises...”

Harry sighed, but forced himself to nod. “I know,” he said softly. “Just... Just don’t forget about me, all right?”

Severus smiled then, as he leaned in and kissed Harry softly. “Never,” he whispered.

. . .

Harry had two therapy sessions after his latest encounter with Severus, and gave Amelia some vague details about it. While Amelia was concerned about the age difference between Harry and “Stephen Silver”, his fake name for Severus, she took comfort in the fact that Harry didn’t seem to be coerced by the situations at all. In fact, Amelia wrote that Harry seemed to be in the most right frame of mind she’d ever seen him. He was happy; he was doing better at Wartsmoth; he was getting along excellently with his peers, and he had even managed to forge a tentative friendship with Draco Malfoy.

A day after his second session after his latest moment with Severus, Harry returned from a study session in the library. He was alone that day, as Anthony had taken Hermione to Dean Village, due to it being a half-day of classes, and he needed to put the final touches on his notes for the quiz on their new chemistry topic—limiting reactant and theoretical yield—to be taken on Monday. It was when Harry pushed open the door of the Warthog common area that the cacophony of sound suddenly burst, and he saw Ron and Lavender having a row in the middle of the room.

“I don’t understand why I can’t go with you!” Lavender screamed.

Ron rolled his eyes. “And I’ve told you, it’ll be family stuff all weekend! You’d be bored!”

“Bored? _Bored_?!” Lavender screeched. “You’re going to _Paris_, Ronald Weasley, the most romantic place in the world, and you don’t want to take your girlfriend with you?!” she demanded of him.

Ron dragged a hand down his face. “Like I said, Lav, I’ll be getting off the plane and going to Bill and Fleur’s place. From there, I’ll likely take a nap until the rehearsal dinner. Then, we have the dinner, and go home and go back to bed. Then, we go to Saint Pierre for the baptism, then we have the after-baptismal lunch, and then I get on a plane and come back.”

Lavender rolled her eyes and tossed her golden-brown hair. “I’ll bet if _Granger_ wanted to go with you, you’d leap at the chance.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“You secretly want Anthony and Granger to break up, so that you can swoop in and be the hero and comfort her! Well, it _won’t_ happen,” Lavender said smugly.

Ron’s hands tightened into fists. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell I don’t!” Lavender shot back. “I know you want her! I know you hate that you’re with me and she’s with Anthony!”

Ron gritted his teeth and tried to keep his temper. “Lavender, that’s enough...”

“Well, try this on for size!” Lavender shot at him, her eyes blazing with rage. “Granger’s such a goddamn slut that, on the night of your birthday, she opened those knobby legs of hers and fucked Anthony!”

“Lavender!” Harry shouted then, charging into the room and blocking Ron’s attempt at slapping her, and turned his eyes onto his best friend. “Let it go, Ron. Walk away. Walk away right now, before you do something you regret.”

Ron tensed then, narrowing his eyes at Lavender. “We’re over,” he said scathingly to her, and Lavender looked shocked.

“Won-Won!” she shouted, all animosity gone. “No!”

“Let’s go, Ron,” Harry said, pushing his friend towards the door and leading him out of there. He didn’t stop pushing Ron until they were on the grounds of the school, the mid-spring sunshine and cool breeze seeming to comfort him. “Sorry you had to find out that way.”

Ron sighed. “So, it is true, then?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, it’s true.”

Ron dragged a hand through his red hair. “It would be kind of hypocritical for me to be mad at her, then, I guess...”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Oh. So, you and Lavender...?”

“God, no,” Ron said, looking as if he would be sick and vehemently shook his head. “No, I... I tried, but I couldn’t...”

Harry sighed, and they sat down on a hill overlooking the Firth of Forth. “I know what you mean,” he said quietly.

Ron peered at him. “You and Ginny, you didn’t...?”

Harry swallowed. “Let’s just say I couldn’t rise for the occasion during our snogging sessions in the wake of Sirius’s murder.”

Ron considered that for a moment. “Maybe because you were grieving...”

Harry shook his head. “No, Ron, it didn’t have anything to do with the grieving process. It had everything to do with the fact that I’m gay.”

Ron nodded. “Point taken.” He stared off at the body of water in front of them, easily becoming lost in its ripples beyond. “Wish it was easier for us, mate.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked him, following his line of sight to where it fell on the water. “How do you mean?”

Ron sighed. “Well, it’d be easier if I could have the girl I wanted, and you could be with the bloke you wanted.”

Harry smirked, leaning back so that he was bracing himself on the palms of his hands. “Least you had the sense to fall for someone who’s our age.”

Ron chuckled at that. “Yeah, there’s that. And she’s a girl. She’s taken, right now, at least, but if she wasn’t...”

“Society wouldn’t look at you funny,” Harry muttered. “I have two strikes against me, because of the age difference, and my proclivities towards the same sex.”

Ron leaned back, so that he was lying down on the grass besides Harry. “Last time we talked about it, you told me he was in his thirties.”

Harry nodded, mimicking Ron’s motions so that he was lying down as well. “Yeah, that’s right,” he told him.

Ron mulled that over for a moment. “I also remember how much you talked about Cho, after you two first snogged when we were fifteen.”

Harry shuddered. “Snogging shouldn’t be wet,” he said. “She was still sad about Cedric, and all she wanted to do was discuss him every time we were together. I’m not much for discussing rather traumatizing events in my life, thank you very much...”

“Thank god the exchange program was up after last year,” Ron put in. “What school did she go to back in China, again?”

“Keystone Academy,” Harry replied.

“Right,” Ron said, nodding. “But you seemed to like her, physically at least. You said how much you loved her eyes and her hair...”

Harry turned over slightly then, and eyed Ron. “What are you getting at here?”

“Well, I was just wondering if you liked blokes with black hair and matching eyes.”

Harry sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he muttered.

Ron swallowed then, and turned to look at Harry. “Doesn’t take much process of elimination to figure out who you’re into, mate.”

Harry pushed himself upwards then, dragging his knees to his chest. “So what?”

“So what?” Ron demanded, following Harry’s movements. “Harry, not only...” He cut himself off then, looking around, and, finding that they were alone, resumed speaking. “Not only is he our professor, and almost forty, but he’s...”

“What, Ron?” Harry demanded, turning over and looking at him. “Spit it out.”

“Well, he was a right git to you for our first five years here,” Ron said with a shrug. “I just don’t want you getting hurt, mate.”

Harry sighed, lowering his eyes. “Little late for that, Ron.”

“What did he do?” Ron demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“Nothing. That’s just it,” Harry whispered, his voice trembling. “He told me, last time we were together, that he couldn’t make me any promises...”

“Well, mate, maybe he’s saying that for you, and not for him...”

Harry blinked, and turned back to Ron. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, _he’s_ not a complete idiot,” Ron explained. “He probably thinks you just want experience, or it’s a dare or something. Not to mention the fact that he really could lose his job if you’re found out...”

“Nobody’s going to find out. Are they, Ron?”

Ron shook his head. “Not from me, they won’t.”

Harry nodded at him. “Good,” he said, and turned to look out at the forth again.

“But I’m just saying,” Ron went on, “you’re a lot younger than he is. Maybe he wants you just as much as you want him, but he wants to give you an out, just in case.”

“Just in case what, Ron?”

“Just in case you’re funning with him,” Ron replied. “I’m not saying you are, but maybe he thinks that’s what’s going on here...”

Harry shook his head. “Not gonna happen.”

“Yeah?” Ron asked. “How do you mean?”

Harry sighed, putting his head into his hands as he finally figured it out. “Because, I think I’m at the point where I can say I’m half in love with him already, Ron,” he whispered.


	8. Get Me Outta Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry blinked, and turned back to Ron. “What do you mean?”
> 
> “I mean, he’s not a complete idiot,” Ron explained. “He probably thinks you just want experience, or it’s a dare or something. Not to mention the fact that he really could lose his job if you’re found out...”
> 
> “Nobody’s going to find out. Are they, Ron?”
> 
> Ron shook his head. “Not from me, they won’t.”
> 
> Harry nodded at him. “Good,” he said, and turned to look out at the forth again.
> 
> “But I’m just saying,” Ron went on, “you’re a lot younger than he is. Maybe he wants you just as much as you want him, but he wants to give you an out, just in case.”
> 
> “Just in case what, Ron?”
> 
> “Just in case you’re funning with him,” Ron replied. “I’m not saying you are, but maybe he thinks that’s what’s going on here...”
> 
> Harry shook his head. “Not gonna happen.”
> 
> “Yeah?” Ron asked. “How do you mean?”
> 
> Harry sighed, putting his head into his hands as he finally figured it out. “Because, I think I’m at the point where I can say I’m half in love with him already, Ron,” he whispered.

Ron’s trip to France came and went quickly, with many Polaroid pictures coming back with him in the wake of Victoire’s baptism. There were many shots of him proudly holding her at the church and at the gatherings throughout the weekend, and a few of him with Gabrielle who seemed to be enjoying the event immensely. Upon Ron’s return, he presented Hermione with a first-edition copy of _Les Misérables_ by Victor Hugo, and, for Harry, a copy of _Studies on Fermentation: The Diseases of Beer, Their Causes, and the Means of Preventing Them_ by Louis Pasteur. Both Harry and Hermione were touched by this unexpected gesture, as they had merely expected an account of the trip and seeing the snapshots.

It was late-April now, so the sun was making more of an appearance within local weather reports, and the school was calming down significantly after midterm examinations had passed without a hitch. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were also looking forward for the yearly weekend trip down to the Water of Leith, which included days in specially built cabins close to the water’s edge, all for the school, and swimming, lots of swimming. This year, Harry had plenty of new clothes to choose from for the trip; it was only for Year Ten students and up, and not every professor would be going; it would only be Professors Snape, McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick making the journey, as Headmaster Dumbledore was needed to look after the younger-years, who would be staying behind at Wartsmoth.

Harry and Ron packed their belongings the night before the trip together, letting the other know which bathing trunks would be better, and had finally finished by eleven that night. The departure time for the trip the following day was eight in the morning, where they would get into vans provided by the government, which would drive them to the site of the field trip. Breakfast was served from six to seven that morning, and you were expected to gather your things and put them outside and await for the vans no later than seven-forty-five. The drive itself was a bit less than twenty minutes, and you were expected to unpack and set up your beds upon arrival; you were to bring sheets, blankets, and a minimum of one pillow, to be put onto your bed of choice for the weekend.

Harry and Ron ate breakfast with Hermione, Anthony, Neville, Draco, Ginny, Dean, Luna, and Rolf that morning, and, as soon as the porridge was scraped off the bottom of their bowls and the last fragments of eggs were consumed, they went to fetch their bags. They were assigned a specific van, like always, and were soon driven through the forest, past the water itself, until they arrived at the site. As they all hopped out of the van, they made their way to their assigned cabin; that year, Harry and Ron would be bunking with Neville and Dean; another cabin would house Anthony, Blaise, Draco, and Rolf; while one of the girls’ cabins was due to hold Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Pansy.

Harry took out his crimson-colored sheets and immediately began making up his bed; he adorned it with the matching crimson duvet, and the two pillows with identical shams he’d brought. He looked over his shoulder, seeing that Ron had Manchester United-themed bedding, while Neville had moss-green bedding, and Dean had gold. Once they’d finished and stowed their duffels underneath their beds, they were instructed to change out of their school uniforms and into something appropriate for the mid-morning hike. The purpose of the hike was to get the students of Wartsmoth Academy reacquainted with the area itself, so as to ensure that they wouldn’t get lost over the next couple of days.

Harry watched with a smirk as Neville and Draco proceeded to run towards one another, giving the other a tight embrace. They’d been separated because of their relationship, Harry saw that, and even though he understood it from a professors’ point of view, he strongly hoped that there wouldn’t be further dividers put between the young men. He looked around, seeing the Ginny and Dean had found one another, as had Hermione and Anthony, and Pansy and Blaise. Luna and Rolf had wandered ahead towards the edge of the woods together, and he wasn’t surprised to see that Lavender and Seamus were having a rather intimate conversation.

“About time,” Ron muttered. “Glad to be shot of her.”

Harry nodded at Ron as the trooped over to the edge of the woods. He stood where he and the rest of the students had been directed as Professor Sprout went over the rules and regulations of the hike. You were encouraged not to dawdle, naturally; there was to be no untoward shoving or physical contact, but those in relationships were perfectly allowed to walk together or hold hands throughout; and the hike would last a couple of hours. Harry remembered the previous year about how, after the hike came lunch, and then some downtime before the late-afternoon swimming took over until dinnertime.

Harry and Ron kept up a conversation as they wandered through the woods, discussing France and the upcoming summer vacation, due to happen in two months. Harry was well-aware at how serious Remus and Dora were, and wasn’t sure what the summer would hold. He thanked Ron in advance for Molly’s invitation to come and stay in Devon, and although he didn’t have a formal answer at this point, leaving it open-ended, knew that he wouldn’t mind staying at the Weasley home yet again.

“Bet Neville’s telling Draco all about the flora and fauna,” Ron said quietly.

Harry grinned. “Well, Draco knew what he liked before they got together.”

“Suffice it to say, he’s been warned,” Ron said with a laugh.

They did a large circle within the hike, and soon they were heading back to the cabins. Professor Sprout said that they had time to shower before lunch, and Harry and Ron thought that that was an excellent idea. They returned to the cabin, finding it empty since Neville and Draco, as well as Ginny and Dean, had likely wandered off to snog somewhere. Harry then darted for the loo, but Ron won, laughing heartily as he snapped Harry with his towel. Harry cursed at his best mate in a noncommittal manner before flopping down onto his bed to wait.

Harry and Ron didn’t take long in either of their showers, and were pleased at the stacks of various sandwiches that awaited them in the nearby canteen afterwards. Harry wore a green polo shirt which brought out his eyes, and a pair of jeans that Remus had bought him but hadn’t worn yet, along with a new pair of trainers. He chewed his sandwich while sitting beside Ron, and felt a pair of eyes on him as he did so. Turning his head, he spotted Severus, sitting at the small round table for the staff at the back of the room, gazing at him openly, and Harry felt his face flush before he returned to tucking into his lunch.

Harry waited the customary hour after eating lunch before swimming, and returned to his cabin to read the book that Ron had gotten him in France to wait. His watch went off when the hour was up, and he hastily changed into the green swimming trunks, and put his matching green towel on over his shoulder, and stepped into his swim shoes. He left the cabin carefully and walked towards the footpath, which led directly to the water. Through the high grass around it, he could spot his fellow students, already in the water, and smirked to himself as he made his way down there. He lay his towel down in the grass, beside Ron’s, and kicked off his shoes with ease, before making a run for the water’s edge and dove right in.

He found himself at ease for the first time in a long time; it was different than drinking at Ron’s birthday party. This was actually fun that Harry was legally allowed to have, given that he was old enough to be in the water without wings or another hindrance of some kind. His black hair was sticking to his forehead, and he laughed, dodging a splash that Ron had aimed at him, and aimed right back at his best mate. Soon, everyone around them was indulging in a splash fight, and the various shrieks and screams attracted the attention of the professors but, once they all realized it was all in good fun, they decided to leave the teenagers to their own devices.

Harry soon grew tired of the splashing and moved away, paddling around in the middle portion of the water, where it wasn’t too shallow or too deep. It was nice to flex his muscles in this way, for there was no pool at Wartsmoth Academy. Of course, he lifted weights whenever he could, which was usually thirty minutes before he went to bed. He was proud of his body, and even though he wasn’t playing football anymore, he had kept up in his physique, and he thought he wasn’t half bad to look at.

Harry lay out on his back, the water lapping at his limbs, cooling them, and stared up at the blue sky, streaked slightly with wisps of pure white clouds. He breathed steadily then, relaxing upon the surface, gently kicking his legs to keep himself afloat. He nibbled at his lower lip, remembering Ron’s absence had been acute during that weekend, and how he had reached out to Severus again but, once again, the professor had rebuffed him. It sent sharp slivers of pain right to his heart, never knowing what the man wanted, and wanting to do everything to ensure that he didn’t wreck things. However, he was drawn like a moth to Severus’s flame, and he couldn’t imagine what life would be like upon graduation, when he wouldn’t see him all the time, and the ever-present ache returned.

He lowered himself back down into the water, looking towards the trees, and felt himself flush at the sight before him. His lips parted at the notion that Severus was standing among the trees, just watching him, and he didn’t know fully what to make of it. He turned and looked at the rest of the students, who were still busy splashing one another, before he looked back over at Severus, who extended a white index finger, and beckoned to him. Without thinking twice, Harry paddled over to the waters’ edge, and Severus promptly hauled him out of the water. He flushed then, as his trunks were molded entirely to his body, leaving very little to the imagination.

Severus said nothing, but slowly let go of Harry’s hand, breathing deeply as he extended his fingers outwards to trace Harry’s collar bone. He felt Harry shuddering beneath his touch, and he smirked slightly at the sight of the teen’s erection from within his trunks. The pad of his thumb moved upwards to gently caress Harry’s cheek, followed by the palm of his hand.

Harry’s teeth nipped at his lower lip as he watched the movements of his chemistry professor, and then he turned his head, lazily sticking out his tongue, and tasted the palm of the older man’s hand. He felt his heartbeat accelerating then; the trees were plenty thick enough around them on all sides, providing them some semblance of privacy, but the fact that they could still hear all the shouts of the students all around them was a bit daunting. Harry sucked in some air to his lungs then and, without moving too much, looked up at Severus, before he tilted his head up and stuck out his tongue again, tracing the outline of his lips.

A shuddering breath escaped his throat then, as Severus’s other hand lowered and caressed one of his nipples, which promptly stood at attention. He swallowed, lowering his eyes slightly to watch as Severus brushed it with the back of his knuckles, before he took his thumb and index finger and gently pulled on it. Harry trembled, and was about to cry out, were it not for his quick thinking, and threw his arms around Severus’s neck, kissing him, tasting him, anchoring his mouth to his as if it was a salvation, a prayer, a hope for survival.

“Don’t...”

“What?” Severus whispered, his hot breath tickling his lips.

“Don’t keep pushing me away,” Harry begged him, well-aware of how pathetic he sounded, but no longer caring. “I can’t take it anymore...”

Severus sighed, putting his forehead against Harry’s; his hand, which had previously been grabbing his nipples, had migrated to his shoulder, while the other was skirting on whether or not to cup the teen’s arse. “You have awakened things in me, Harry, which I initially believed to be dormant forever.”

“Then, let’s keep going,” Harry breathed, his voice trembling slightly. “I want to...”

“Perhaps if you had paid this much attention to your reading, I wouldn’t have to constantly avoid you, Harry.”

Harry gasped then, feeling his lower lip quivering. “Why do you always have to do this?” he whispered to him. “Ruining a perfectly good moment...”

“Because, Harry, I’m your professor, and no matter how we spin this, setting your sights on me is, perhaps, the biggest mistake you could make.”

“I’ve made too many mistakes in my life to count, Severus,” Harry whispered back, and his professor tightened his grip upon his shoulder at that. “I know by now what a mistake is. This, this right here,” he said, his voice shaking then as he took his professor’s hand, not the one that gripped his shoulder, and lowered it to his sensitive erection, prompting a soft gasp from the older man, “is not a mistake. It couldn’t ever be one.”

“Harry, you don’t...”

“Please,” Harry whispered, angling his hips slightly so as he created friction against Severus’s hand, which promptly seemed to close around the delicate organ, “please, I want this. I want this with you...”

“Harry...”

“I don’t want anyone else,” Harry went on, knowing that something he said might get the results he wanted from him. “I’ll never want anyone else. I just want you. Please...please. I want this, right here, right now, with you...”

Severus sighed, his already-weakened resolve weakening further as he slammed Harry up against the tree, capturing his lips with his, and tasting the delicious forbidden fruit of what lay inside Harry’s lips. He gently stroked at his erection, and felt the blood surge into his own when he felt Harry moaning into his mouth. It was like he was in a dream, touching Harry like this, and having him move up against him like that. Their hearts were pressed together, beating rather furiously as they sought what they wanted, and Severus found he had never been happier in that moment than he was, right here, right now.

Harry felt the tears pricking at his eyes the moment Severus had kissed him back. He felt himself shaking all over; it wasn’t from the fears that his past brought him, but something else entirely. It was the notion of everything that had happened in his past, and his heart broke at the notion of Severus finding out about it, and then rejecting him for his freakish ways. He couldn’t, he just couldn’t, put someone he cared about through that. He pulled back from Severus then, and, once the black eyes met his, he sighed.

“I can’t do this to you,” he whispered then, his tone broken, as he tore himself from Severus’s arms, ran through the trees and back onto the grass, before he made a grab for his towel and his shoes, before he took off. Running and running as fast as he could, he went to the phone that the students were permitted to use, and dialed a number quickly.

“Hello?”

“Remus, i-it’s Harry,” he said, his voice shaking.

“Harry? Are you all right?”

“I... I want to go back to school,” he said softly, trying not to cry.

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“Please, Remus...”

“All right. I’ll come and get you,” Remus declared.

Harry hung up the phone and bolted into his cabin, quickly drying himself off and shoving his wet clothes into the swim bag he’d brought. He then changed into something casual, and packed up his things, stripping the bed in one go, and it was then that he heard a knock on the cabin door. He flew to it, opening it, and threw himself into Remus’s arms, sobbing, and felt so secure in the man’s arms.

“Harry, what’s going—?”

“Please, not here,” Harry begged him.

Remus nodded. “No problem,” he replied, taking ahold of Harry’s duffel while Harry kept a grip on his swim bag, and brought the boy towards his car. “I’ve told Minerva, and she’ll make excuses on your behalf, to both your friends and to the staff. We’ll go to the villa for the weekend,” he said softly.

Harry nodded as he sat in the front of the car. He waited until Remus had shoved his duffel into the boot, and climbed into the drivers’ seat and pulled out of there, before he even trusted himself to say a word. “I... I’ve been kind of...”

“Yes, Harry?”

“I don’t know what you’d call it,” he said at last. “I mean... You know I’m gay?”

Remus nodded. “Yes, Harry, I know.”

“There’s a guy,” Harry said softly as they got to the main stretch of road.

“Tell me about him.”

“He’s older,” he admitted.

“Older? How old? As old as Rolf?”

Harry shook his head. “Older.”

“As old as Fred and George?”

“No. He’s older than that.”

“Charlie or Bill?”

“Older,” Harry whispered.

Remus sighed, but nevertheless kept driving. “As old as me?”

Harry nodded. “He’s... Actually just a bit older than you,” he said softly.

“Does he know how old you are?”

“He does.”

“Have you two...?”

“No,” Harry replied, shaking his head. “I want to, and I think he wants to. I’ve... I’ve given him pleasure, you know, orally,” he went on, his face flushing, “and we’ve done it with our clothes on, and he’s touched me, through clothes... He... It happened, today...”

Remus pulled off the side of the road then; they were in the final stretch of road before Dean Village, and he knew that yelling at Harry wouldn’t solve anything. “Do I know him?”

Harry sighed. “Yes,” he admitted.

“And... How do you feel about this man, Harry?”

“I... I think I love him,” Harry replied, shocked at how naturally the words had come, and amazed that he felt this way for Severus.

Remus turned and regarded Harry then, almost as if he was attempting to make heads or tails of the situation. “It’s Snape, isn’t it, Harry?”

Harry nodded, shutting his eyes as the tears continued streaming down his face. “Yes,” he whimpered then, fearing what would happen.

“Harry...”

“Please, please don’t report him!” Harry shouted then, his eyes snapping open as he turned and looked at Remus. “I know you have to, but just think about it for a minute! We haven’t had sex with each other, and I can’t... I want to, but I can’t...”

Remus reached out then and touched Harry’s shoulder. “Because of your trauma?”

“Kind of,” Harry whispered. “I just... I can’t put someone else through all that, Remus. I... God, I love him so much, and I don’t want him to have to...” Harry’s voice broke then as he threw himself into Remus’s arms, sobbing into his shoulder, feeling comforted at the sense that Remus was truly being a father to him in that moment.

“Do you see a future with him?”

Harry nodded. “Yes,” he blubbered. “But I doubt he sees one with me. He... We keep getting closer, and then he pushes me away. Why would he ever want someone like...?”

“He probably thinks you’re too young, or too good, or too pure for him,” Remus told Harry in a gentle tone. “He must care about you on some level, Harry.” He sighed. “And I wouldn’t be a very good parent to take that away from you.”

Harry pulled back. “What... What are you saying?”

Remus sighed. “Against my better judgement, if you can manage to control yourselves until you’re graduated, then I don’t see why this has to be a problem.”

Harry blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. I’ll go to bat for you this time, Harry. We’ll say you weren’t feeling well. But if this happens again, I’m telling the truth to Albus, and nothing you say or do will stop me. Do I make myself clear?”

Harry sighed, knowing that this was his only chance. “Crystal,” he replied.

Remus sighed, squeezing Harry’s shoulders for a moment. “Come on,” he said, lowering him into the chair beside him. “Let’s go home.”

. . .

The rest of April and all of May passed with a combination of sessions with Amelia and studying for Harry’s final exams. He was relieved when Remus didn’t bring up what had happened at the Water of Leith again, and so he was free to focus on his final essays for Russian literature, English, history, and chemistry, as well as his French presentation, and the exams themselves in all of those classes. For art class, he would have to paint something meaningful to him in the final exam two-hour period; for trigonometry, there would be a math exam in packet form which he was not looking forward to; for horticulture, he would be presenting on the plant that he had opted to grow from the start of the year, which was a Red Weeping Tree Rose; and, for physical education, Remus had instructed the students to run around the school grounds.

When the exams had the consideration to finally end themselves, all that remained of the year was collecting his grades. School was due to end soon, and the customary final classes were sort of a wrap-up session on what they had learned throughout the year. Once they got their final grades, they would have some idea of what their classes would be the following year, which would be handed over via post no later than August first.

Harry received his envelope containing his grades in his school personal mailbox on the fifteenth of June, the final Sunday of the school year. He leaned up against the wall, painstakingly opening the envelope which would decide his academic future, his final year, at Wartsmoth Academy, and found his jaw dropping. He’d done well in all of his classes, but was most surprised by the _Excellent_ grade he’d gotten in chemistry. This meant that he would be guaranteed a spot the following term in physics class with Hermione, for he knew that she, at the very least, had passed the course as well. He would also be going on to calculus after passing his trigonometry class, and, as far as he knew, advanced drawing and painting, due to his passing grade in the standard class, and advanced French, for the same reason. History, English, and a potential career-boosting class would likely follow the following year, but, for the moment, he was pleased to know that, academically, at least, things were secure.

Harry bolted from the student mailboxes and broke into a run down the basement stairs, letting himself into the chemistry classroom which, in three months’ time, would officially be the physics classroom. He stood by the door, watching as Severus gathered his things to clean up for summer, and hesitated for a moment, before permitting himself to speak. “Professor?”

“What is it, Potter?”

Harry’s heart thudded in his chest; he shouldn’t be surprised, considering that the man likely thought he’d been rejected at the Waters of Leith. “I... I just wanted to thank you... For my grade,” he finished lamely.

“Why thank me?” he asked, avoiding eye contact with him as he continued tidying up the classroom around them. “You put in the work.”

Harry shrugged, pulling out his chemistry textbook and thumbing the spine. “Oh, I don’t know about that, sir,” he said softly. “I... This book really helped, above all things.”

“If you’re referring to your textbook, then I would hope so, considering that I assigned weekly readings in it,” Severus said shortly.

“It wasn’t just because of that,” Harry protested. “It was the words in this book. I won’t go into extreme detail—the writer seemed to think that nobody would read it.”

“What are you blathering on about, Potter?” Severus demanded.

“The final pages of the book are filled with diary-like entries,” Harry admitted then, opening one of the passages and reading. “‘I wish that life was easier, but it cannot be. With a professional life that I can have, based on my academic achievement, a personal life I cannot, based on what society deems to be acceptable.’ Signed, The Lonely One,” Harry whispered, dragging his fingers across the text.

Severus dropped what he had been holding and whipped around, and Harry’s eyes met his then as the professor advanced upon him, horror in his face as he caught sight, for the first time, of the book that Harry held. “Where did you get that?” he demanded, jabbing his finger at the book, a horrified look in his eyes.

“In the supply closet across the hall,” Harry replied. “What with Remus getting custody of me, I didn’t have time to go book shopping and, when I did, these weren’t available,” he went on, and gasped slightly when Severus snatched the book from his hand. “Hey! What are you—?!”

“These... These entries, did you read _all_ of them?!” he wanted to know, his voice quivering as he tore through the book.

“It was in my possession for nine months... What’s this about?!” Harry demanded, shocked at the demeanor of his professor.

“Who else knows about them?!”

“Just Ron... He took the book and read one before I could get it back,” Harry replied, shaking his head in confusion. “It’s not like either of us figured out who The Lonely One was...”

“Don’t be daft, Potter.”

Harry blinked. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know what you—”

“_I’m_ The Lonely One, Potter,” Severus growled, thumbing to the final page, where the last entry was dated as June of 1978. “‘And now that I shall be free of W.A., I can finally achieve academically what I always set out to do. The personal life shall have to wait, for everyone seems to think that people with my proclivities are damaged somehow. But, I shall strive to fear now, and, hopefully, one day, I will be able to be myself.’ Signed, The Lonely One,” Severus whispered then, his voice haunting as he read the entry.

“You...?” Harry breathed.

“That’s right,” Severus intoned softly. “I’m The Lonely One.”

“You... No, you’re lying,” Harry whispered.

“Harry...”

“No!” Harry shouted. “Despite everything,” he said, gesturing between the two of them, “we could never make it work, because Riddle told me—he _told_ me—that you were in love with my mother! You’re nothing but a liar and a coward!” Harry shouted then, and, when Severus made an attempt to grab him, Harry shoved him away and stormed from the room, without permitting himself to look back.

. . .

Harry was surprised at the notion that Remus had proposed to Dora, but was, nevertheless, pleased for the two of them. They all went to the graduation ceremony together, in celebration of Rolf’s achievement of finishing Wartsmoth Academy. Harry deliberately ignored Severus, who tried more than once to catch his eye, and, instead, focused on the ceremony itself. It did come as a surprise, however, when Anthony pulled Hermione aside and asked her to go traveling with him over the summer. When Hermione politely declined, partially because she wasn’t prepared for a trip and because she had made plans with Harry and Ron, Anthony suddenly proclaimed that he didn’t feel comfortable with her friendship with Ron. Hermione, in response, promptly broke it off with Anthony, and stormed off to sit with Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Remus, and Dora, on the other side of the seating area.

Ron and Hermione were permitted to come back to the villa after the ceremony, and agreed to pitch in and help Dora move in. There was a lot of laughter and silliness throughout the night, and they ordered Italian takeaway for dinner, with Ron bunking with Harry for the night after bedtime came, and Hermione taking a guest room. The following day, Harry took Remus’s car to the station, dropping Ron and Hermione off and promising to come up to Devon or Hampstead for a visit very soon, and both of his best friends held him to that.

It was a complete shock to Harry when Remus and Dora informed him that they didn’t intend to make their engagement a long one. In mid-July, the pair said their “I Do’s” close to Wartsmoth Academy campus, and Harry was front and center as Remus’s best man, and was also there to wave them off for their honeymoon. Harry then boarded a train with Ron and Hermione, who had come down for the occasion, and returned to Devon, where he would be staying at the Weasley home for the summer, until Remus and Dora returned home.

“What do you want to do for your birthday, mate?” Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. “No idea yet, but I’ll let you know.”

It wasn’t completely true; in fact, it was a downright lie. Harry had decided to take a train from Devon to Scotland to confront Severus, once and for all. It would be without the fear of someone barging in on their conversation, for he knew the man took his summers on campus, and not many staff members did. Still, he kept his plan to himself, and, when the day came, left a note that he would be gone for the day, and got himself to the station.

When the train finally arrived at the station in Edinburgh, he found he had no idea what he was going to say to the professor. He could hardly proclaim his undying love to Severus Snape of all people, and actually expect to survive the encounter. Nevertheless, as his taxi brought him to the gates of the school, Harry let himself out and wandered onto the grounds, found an unlocked door, and headed downstairs.

“Severus?” he asked, pushing open the door.

Severus immediately got to his feet, a physics book in his hand, which he set down on his desk and slowly came forward. “Harry.”

Harry sighed, feeling his fingers knotting together as anxiety threatened to take him over completely. “Look,” he said, his voice shaking, “I want to attempt to have a civil, adult conversation. Can we agree to that?”

Severus nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“You should know that I get frightened, because of what my aunt and uncle did to me,” Harry said softly, and noticed that Severus’s lips went into a thin line. “It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me. However, you should know that, that day at Leith, that was all me, and not you. I wasn’t having a panic attack,” he told him.

Severus sighed. “Harry, it’s perfectly natural that you...”

“Please, I’m not finished,” he interrupted, and Severus allowed him to speak. “I was scared that, because of what happened to me, that you wouldn’t want me.”

Severus shook his head. “That’s ridiculous, Harry! I told you I wanted you, and I told you that I had been hurt in a similar fashion. Our pasts cannot define us, Harry. You of all people should know that by now.”

“I want you, too,” Harry whispered, taking a tentative step closer, “which is why I think we should give a relationship a shot.”

Severus blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Look, I know I’m seventeen and still your student for another year, but I don’t care. As of this moment, I’m not your student.”

Severus sighed. “You are my student until this June, when you will still be underage, as you very well know,” he said firmly.

“And I already told you that I didn’t care about any of that,” Harry countered, and stepped closer still. “I want you, Severus, and you’ve told me that you want me. What’s stopping us?”

“The law, the Board of Governors,” Severus said. “Many things, Harry.”

Harry sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly then. “But... You want me. You said that you wanted me, Severus. Why can’t we just...?”

“I just gave you two very important reasons, Harry, not to mention the fact that Albus would sack me on the spot if he found out about my feelings, as well as all we’ve done,” Severus told him gently. “I could never get another position in academia again, and, assuming I wasn’t sent to prison, I would still be branded a pedophile, based on what we’ve already done, and my clear attraction to you.”

“I hope it has nothing to do with my age...”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Severus snapped. “It has to do with you and who you are.”

Harry swallowed. “So, you... You won’t be with me?”

“I cannot be with you, Harry. At least, not now.”

Harry looked away, his eyes filled with tears. “I thought...”

Severus sighed. “People thought I loved your mother,” he said softly then, and Harry shut his eyes, tears streaming down his face. “It wasn’t too difficult to come to that conclusion. We were always together, up until we were fifteen. She was...home for me, Harry. And when I heard the news that Riddle had done what he’d done, I immediately went to the police and offered up my testimony, knowing that I could stand to lose everything but it didn’t matter, not then. I had just finished my science degree, and was looking for jobs, but my entire world came crashing down when the papers were splattered with headlines about the murders...”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t want to...”

“...which is why you shouldn’t be here, Harry. You shouldn’t be here because it’s too dangerous for you to be here.”

Harry turned to Severus and narrowed his eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

“Harry, wait,” Severus said, moving after him as he moved to leave. “You don’t understand what I’m talking about right now. It’s not safe—”

“I don’t give a rat’s arse what you’re talking about!” Harry shouted at him, his voice shaking. “I can sense that you had plenty of opportunity to fight for us, and to fight back against all the obstacles in our way. I want you, but I guess my wanting outweighs yours, considering that I’m fully prepared to fight for what I want. Guess the same doesn’t apply to you,” he intoned at the older man, before walking away.

Harry dashed up the flight of stairs then, finding the closest exit he could and pushing his way out of there. Tears blinded his vision as he ran, the return ticket back to the Devon station feeling like a weight in his pocket. All he wanted to do was return to the villa and fall into bed, and perhaps sleep for an entire year; that way, he’d never had to face Severus again. At least, he figured, when he began uni, he wouldn’t have to put up with his cowardly ways—

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” asked a giggly voice as he passed through the gates of the school, on the road to Dean Village.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat then, his hairs standing up on end at the voice that crawled into his ear, and looked around. “Oh, my god...” He whispered, as he saw convicted murder Bellatrix Lestrange standing before him in all her gothic, horrific glory.

“Don’t just stand there!” she shouted. “Grab him!”

Harry felt strong arms on all sides—left, right, and back—taking ahold of him then, smashing his muscles with their lean hands. “Let me go!” he yelled.

“No, I don’t think we will,” said Lucius Malfoy in his ear, from behind him.

“Now! Let go now!” Harry demanded.

“Quiet!” screamed Bellatrix.

“No, no, no!” Harry shouted back.

A laugh made its way into his ear from his left side. “I’d listen to my wife, if I were you,” he said, his breath warm and disgusting on Harry’s skin.

“And I’d listen to my brother, if _I _were you,” said a voice to his right.

Bellatrix walked forward then, something in her hands—it looked like a dirty rag. “Hold the filthy little brat still,” she ordered her husband and brothers-in-law, all pleasantries gone. She then lifted the rag and plastered it onto Harry’s face, and although he struggled against it, his vision blurred quickly, and he felt himself take on the consistency of a ragdoll as the entire world went black.


	9. Too Close For Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t just stand there!” she shouted. “Grab him!”
> 
> Harry felt strong arms on all sides—left, right, and back—taking ahold of him then, smashing his muscles with their lean hands. “Let me go!” he yelled.
> 
> “No, I don’t think we will,” said Lucius Malfoy in his ear, from behind him.
> 
> “Now! Let go now!” Harry demanded.
> 
> “Quiet!” screamed Bellatrix.
> 
> “No, no, no!” Harry shouted back.
> 
> A laugh made its way into his ear from his left side. “I’d listen to my wife, if I were you,” he said, his breath warm and disgusting on Harry’s skin.
> 
> “And I’d listen to my brother, if I were you,” said a voice to his right.
> 
> Bellatrix walked forward then, something in her hands—it looked like a dirty rag. “Hold the filthy little brat still,” she ordered her husband and brothers-in-law, all pleasantries gone. She then lifted the rag and plastered it onto Harry’s face, and although he struggled against it, his vision blurred quickly, and he felt himself take on the consistency of a ragdoll as the entire world went black.

Darkness. 

That’s what Harry had woken up to, when he finally managed to regain consciousness. He was in a room somewhere, likely at the bottom of a house or building; the walls were cement, and there were no windows. It smelled of mildew, if he was being perfectly honest, and there seemed to be a water leak somewhere, due to the constant dripping he heard.

Harry had woken up on his back, and he could easily feel as if he was tied down to something. It was by moving his hands this way and that—as much as the restraints provided—that he was on an old mattress, likely the same quality he had had while living at the Dursleys. There was a torn mattress pad upon it, and a thin bottom sheet, but no upper sheet, or blankets to speak of. Only his hands were tied, and they seemed to be so via a jagged and rusty-looking hook on the wall behind him. His legs, however, were loose from any form of binding, which Harry briefly wondered was an oversight by his kidnappers, or, if that they wanted him to have a fighting chance.

Harry swallowed, somehow managing to push himself into a sitting position, knocking his head back on the concrete wall behind him as he struggled to do so, crying out slightly. He shuddered at the smarting pain which surged through his head, hoping that it didn’t bleed everywhere. He gritted his teeth, hearing a door squeaking open, a light shining on the staircase just opposite him, and found his heart beating loudly in his chest at the oncoming approach of an unknown person, but his heart soon entered his throat.

“Ah, Harry Potter,” said Riddle, moving so that he was standing just in front of the sorry-looking mattress, that serpentine grin of his never wavering as he gazed upon his prey.

“What are you...? You’re supposed to be in prison!” Harry shouted.

Riddle tsked then, shaking his head. “I would have expected you to know that I have a great many friends on the inside and outside, young Harry, whose hearts still beat for my cause. It wasn’t too difficult to put them to use,” he went on with a shrug.

“What do you want with me?” Harry demanded, his tone bitter. “I’ve got nothing on you. They couldn’t try you for trying to kill me when I was a baby, and I was hardly able to give a witness testimony about it.”

Riddle charged forward then, grabbing ahold of Harry’s shirt and yanking him closer, which was difficult, due to him being tied, and Harry cried out at the push-and-pull sensation that ripped through his muscles. “Regardless, I like to leave no stone unturned,” he declared, looking Harry up and down. “And besides, it will be very difficult for Vernon and Petunia to be sentenced without you being around to continue your complaints.”

“I already testified,” Harry growled at him, despite the pain in his smarting muscles. “Too little, too late, Riddle.”

“Their solicitor is the same as mine, you know,” Riddle informed Harry, and his blood ran cold at the declaration. “While the plan was constantly put off, we finally managed to come together for a successful snatching.”

Harry shook his head at him. “No. No, that’s... They’d never...”

“You betrayed them, Harry,” Riddle declared. “After feeding and clothing you for over a decade, they were entitled to reap any kind of rewards that you were capable of giving them. And now, you’ve defiled the notion of a happy household, forever breaking apart a family with a taste for discipline.”

“Discipline?!” Harry spat, angry that Riddle would bring up his home life with the Dursleys. “I think you know very well that that wasn’t discipline, Riddle! That was abuse, pure and simple, and of all kinds. I’m sure you got copies of the transcripts on the day I testified, when I spoke about what they would all do to me.”

“Child’s play,” Riddle said, glaring down at him. “It is mere child’s play, Harry, compared to what I’ve wanted to do to you since I saw you in the paper, in the wake of Bella killing your precious Sirius.”

Harry attempted to get out of Riddle’s grip. “You can’t do anything to me,” he told him, his voice quiet but deadly. “You can’t, because I belong to someone else.”

Riddle rolled his eyes. “Love does not exist, Potter,” he sneered. “Whatever feelings you may think you have for the cowardly Severus Snape are myth.”

“I love him!” Harry shouted at Riddle, his voice strong, hardly caring what happened to him anymore. “Don’t you dare talk about Severus!”

Riddle, quickly losing patience, turned Harry lose and smacked him, so that he fell backwards onto the mattress. “You will soon learn your place,” he ground out, stepping away from him. “I will check on you soon. You will beg for it,” he muttered, before he turned around and swept out of the basement.

As soon as the door had closed behind his captor, Harry found himself staring at the ceiling again as he trembled all over. He took ahold of his bottom lip in between his teeth, so as to prevent himself from crying out. No, he could not allow Riddle or his followers, under any certain terms, to figure out just how weak he was. Despite everything, as tears flowed down his cheeks, he knew he would have to remain strong. He’d survived over a decade and a half of hell, after all. What was another day, if that?

. . .

Severus nearly dropped the book upon ending his urgent phone call with Albus, telling him that he was needed in the headmaster’s office immediately. Severus knew that he was being summoned, along with Minerva, Filius, and Pomona, as he left the basement of Wartsmoth Academy and made his way upstairs. Upon arrival in the dean’s office—which hadn’t seen a restoration since the Great Depression—he sat in the provided chair, with Minerva and Filius on either side of him, and Pomona on Minerva’s other side.

“This has yet to hit the papers,” Albus began, his tone grave, “but Scotland Yard has just informed me that, in the wake of the mass prison breakout in London, that four of Riddle’s followers—Bellatrix, Rodolphus as Rabastan, and Lucius have all banded together in order to kidnap Harry.”

“Good lord, no!” Minerva shouted; out of the four of them, in a public setting, she was seen as the closest to Harry.

“They have sent a ransom note to Scotland Yard, letting them know that they are holding him in an undisclosed location, after they abducted him yesterday afternoon,” Albus went on, his normally twinkling eyes just flat blue.

“Where was he taken from, Albus?” Filius spoke up, his happy-go-lucky attitude replaced with utter and total seriousness.

“The front gates,” Albus replied.

Pomona blinked, scooting forward from beside Minerva. “You mean, the front gates of Wartsmoth, Albus?” she asked him.

Albus nodded. “Yes, Pomona.”

“What on earth could he have possibly been doing here?” Minerva demanded. “It was his seventeenth birthday... He said he was staying in Devon with the Weasleys, as Remus and Dora were on their honeymoon in Montenegro, and thought he would like the company of his second family,” she said, her mind going over and over the situation.

“He was here to see me,” Severus said softly, speaking up for the first time.

Albus immediately leaned forward upon his desk and steepled his fingers, as Minerva, Filius, and Pomona all turned to look at him, their respective jaws proceeding to drop. “Severus, if you have any pertinent information that could prove useful to Scotland Yard, don’t hesitate to share it.”

Severus sighed. “Very well, then.”

Albus lifted his phone then, and keyed in a number, before he waited the bypass the rings. “Yes, hello, this is Albus Dumbledore,” he said carefully into the receiver. “Yes, I’m speaking with the heads of the students now, and one of them knew something. Yes, of course,” he said, and held out the phone to Severus.

“Yes, hello, this is Severus Snape,” he said, once he took the phone.

“Ah, yes, Professor Snape. This is Deputy Commissioner Kingsley Shacklebolt,” said the deep, accented voice on the other end of the office telephone. “Headmaster Dumbledore mentioned that you had some information regarding the timeline of events of Harry James Potter’s day yesterday. We know it was his seventeenth birthday, and that he was staying in Devon in the wake of his guardian, Remus Lupin, and one of our own, Dora Tonks, heading off to Montenegro for their honeymoon. His best friend, Ronald Weasley, has informed us that Mr. Potter left the Weasley residence in Devon around six in the morning, and left a note behind, saying he would be gone for the day, but not where he was going, or when he would be coming back.”

“And, you have the note?” Severus guessed.

“We have the note,” Deputy Commissioner Shacklebolt said. “From there, Mr. Potter’s whereabouts were unknown until he arrived at the Devon train station. He caught him via CCTV, and again when he stepped off the train in Edinburgh. From there, we see that he caught a cab, and we’re waiting for confirmation as to who the driver was. He was then dropped off somewhere, and we now presume it to be at Wartsmoth Academy, given that that is where he was kidnapped from, around half an hour after he got into the cab.”

“Yes, I see,” Severus said softly.

“I take it, based on Headmaster Dumbledore’s phone call, that you have some information for us which could prove to be crucial?”

“Yes. Potter came to the school to see me,” Severus told him.

“I see. Are the two of you exceptionally close?”

“I wouldn’t say so, no,” Severus said, knowing the consequences for lying to a copper, but not caring about it right now.

“All right, then. Could you tell me what he was doing there, then?”

“He wanted to know if an executive decision had been made in regards to his going on from chemistry to physics this autumn,” Severus said steadily.

“Excuse me?” the deputy commissioner asked.

“He is an insufferable, bratty teenager,” Severus said scathingly into the phone, and noticed Albus’s lips thinning at that. “He got the grades to go onto physics from chemistry, and when I explained that to him, he proceeded to demand information about what we would be learning in class next autumn.”

“I see,” Deputy Commissioner Shacklebolt said quietly.

“He left shortly thereafter, when I explained that his questions were entirely inappropriate, and that he would have to wait and see, just like the rest of the students next term. He then left my classroom, at around three o’clock in the afternoon.”

“The kidnappers confirm having him no later than three-fifteen,” the deputy commissioner reported back to Severus softly. “Well, we can account for his whereabouts a bit more now. Of course, now we have to figure out where he’s being held. I don’t suppose you have that information, do you, professor?”

Severus swallowed; he really didn’t have a clue. “No, Deputy Commissioner. I apologize. This is truly all that I know.”

“Understood, professor,” he said softly. “Feel free to put the headmaster back on now.”

“Of course.” Severus handed the phone over, and he, Minerva, Filius, and Pomona were quickly excused with a wave of Albus’s hand. Severus felt like he’d been forced to swallow iodine of some kind, and, as he left the headmaster’s office, felt unsteady on his feet as he returned to the basement of the school.

. . . 

When Remus and Dora touched down at the Edinburgh Airport on the fifth of August, they were met by Deputy Commissioner Shacklebolt as soon as they disembarked the plane. Dora let go of Remus’s hand and rushed forward, heart pounding in her chest as she saw her boss. She spent most of her time with Commissioner Alastor Moody, so for Kingsley Shacklebolt to be waiting for them upon their return from their honeymoon, whatever the reason was, she knew it had to be serious.

“Kings,” she said, the nickname not lost on her superior as her voice trembled, as she pulled her light jacket more closely around her willowy frame. “What’s going on? What’s happened?” she asked him.

Kingsley sighed, squeezing Dora’s shoulder briefly as Remus approached the two of them. “You’re Remus Lupin, the court-appointed guardian of Harry Potter?” he asked without preamble.

Remus gave a stiff nod to Kingsley, finding Dora’s hand again. “Yes, what is this about?” he wanted to know, the tremor in his voice not lost on his wife, nor her superior. “Has... Has something happened to Harry?”

“I’m afraid so,” he said, motioning for them to follow. “Our associates have been instructed to collect your baggage. You’ll need to come with me.”

“Of course,” Dora said, agreeing without hesitation.

“What’s going on?” Remus wanted to know as they circled the airport and walked directly towards the attached parking lot, where official Scotland Yard vehicles were awaiting the three of them. “Please. For all intents and purposes, Harry is my son, and should have been from the moment his parents were killed. I need to know what’s going on with him.”

“Is he in hospital?” Dora asked as Kingsley opened the door of the van.

“We don’t know where he is at the moment,” Kingsley confessed as Dora and then Remus got into the vehicle. Kingsley got in himself into the vehicle himself and nodded at the driver, who promptly sped into the line of traffic. “Scotland Yard is coupling with the Scottish police at their headquarters of Tulliallan Castle for the time being.”

Remus shook his head. “Why would the police be involved?”

Kingsley sighed before reaching out towards the front seat, and grabbing ahold of a dog-eared copy of _The Times_ and handed it over to Remus. The bold headline declared, _Day Five of Riddle’s Camp of Holding Harry J. Potter_, _No New Leads_.

“No... No,” Remus whispered then, dropping the paper into his lap and placing his face into his hands, proceeding to sob. “They can’t have taken Harry... Not Harry...”

Dora took in her new husband’s body language and snatched the paper from his lap, letting out a shrill scream as she turned to her superior. “We need to find our boy immediately!” she declared, slipping her hand in Remus’s.

“Perhaps some time relaxing would be the best thing for you,” Kingsley said gently to her. “We got you a room at Broomhall—”

“Another castle isn’t going to ease the wound that someone has taken my son!” Dora shouted then, and Remus raised his eyes to her profile, shocked.

“You... You called him your son,” he whispered.

Dora turned and regarded her husband then, a small smile on her face. “I felt compassion for him from the moment I took him away from those heathens,” she told him patiently. “And, from the moment you asked me to be your wife, Harry became my son, too. We’re going to do everything to get our boy back, Remus, I swear it.”

“I’m afraid, Dora, that it is not that simple,” Kingsley said softly.

Dora’s eyes snapped to the deputy commissioner’s. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?!” she demanded of him.

Kingsley’s mouth set into a thin line then. “From the moment you married Professor Lupin, you also attained guardianship of the minor Harry Potter,” he replied tolerantly. “As such, your participation in the investigation into young Mr. Potter’s kidnapping would not only be unethical, but an extreme conflict of interest—”

“You think I give a rat’s arse about ethics or conflicts of interest?!” Dora demanded. “I was a Chief Inspector _before_ I became a mother, and I’ll be a Chief Inspector for as long as the force will have me as one. I will not be bullied or pushed around when it comes to my family, or my children, by anyone. I will be participating in this investigation, Kings, one way or another. Nor will I rest until my boy is brought home to us.”

There was a chuckle from the front seat then, and Commissioner Alastor Moody poked his head out from where he’d been hiding, his eye patch no longer a shock to Dora, but easily one to her new husband. “Well said, Chief Inspector Lupin,” he said gruffly to her, before affixing his one good eye onto his deputy commissioner. “I want her on this case, Kings,” he told him then, his tone a severe one. “I may be accused of playing favorites to the point where I have to give over my position to you, but Chief Inspector Lupin’s one of the best we’ve got. We need her on this one, Kings, for a mother’s love knows no bounds.”

Kings sighed. “Very well, sir,” he said, knowing when it was time to stop an argument. “But she follows my lead on this.”

Commissioner Moody nodded. “Of course. At the end of the day, you’re still her superior. But, remember, Kings, you always answer to me,” he said, and turned back around to watch the terrain around them as they made their way to Tulliallan Castle.

. . .

Harry stiffened automatically at the series of squeaks that emitted from the door as it opened at the top of the stairs, and as the stairs responded to two pairs of feet walking down them. If he was doing his math correctly—which was difficult, due to there being no clocks or windows down where he was—he had been there twenty days. A lump rose in his throat at that; the term would begin soon, and he desperately wanted to finish his schooling, not to mention see his family and friends again.

Harry sat up as best he could when two of his captors came into the room, and was surprised to see that Riddle was not among them, considering that he had been down there almost daily to check up on him; one of the men was Lucius, and the other was one of the Lestrange brothers, he didn’t know which. The former moved behind him and unshackled his arms, and Harry let out a hiss through his teeth, and rubbed at his wrists, rubbed raw and stiff from being confined for so long. He looked up at the Lestrange brother then, who was carrying something that smelled incredible.

“Riddle has decreed that you can have something to eat,” he said.

Harry blinked; although used to starvation, he was now getting three square meals a day, plus snacks, both in and out of school, so to go for so long without eating regularly was beginning to take its toll on him. “Thank you,” he managed to get out.

“Good boy,” said Lucius from behind him, which made Harry’s skin crawl. Lucius then got to his feet and left the basement.

Harry reached out and took the offering, which seemed to be two wrapped cheeseburgers, a medium-sized fries, and a bottle of water. He set the second cheeseburger and the fries on the bed, and slowly unwrapped the first burger, and opened his bottle of water. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly once he’d taken a sip, which soothed his throat, “but I... You and your brother look a lot alike,” he said lamely.

“Oh,” said the man, genuinely surprised at the statement. “I’m Rabastan,” he said softly. “I’m Bella’s brother-in-law.”

Harry nodded. “I see. Thank you, Rabastan,” he said softly, and took another bite of his burger, which could’ve been haggis for all he cared; it was delicious.

Rabastan leaned against the opposite wall, watching Harry as he crossed his arms, looking every inch a jailer. “Is it all right? The food.”

Harry nodded again. “Yes, thank you for asking,” he said, getting a fry from the cardboard container. “It’s great.”

“Riddle will appreciate hearing that,” Rabastan said. “He also says that if you keep on behaving for us, then you let us know what you want to eat, and we’ll bring it to you.”

Harry gave a tentative smile. “Good to know,” he replied.

“What other foods do you like?” Rabastan asked him. “I’m supposed to tell Riddle when he comes here again.”

Harry swallowed, wanting desperately to ask where ‘here’ was, but also knowing it would be unwise to push his luck. “I like pizza,” he said quietly.

“What kind?”

“Lots of cheese,” he told his captor. “I also like pepperoni.”

“We can do that,” Rabastan told him. “Anything else?”

“Salads, doesn’t matter what kind,” Harry answered. “I also like pasta.”

“And to drink?”

“Water is fine,” Harry told him softly.

“What about dessert?” Rabastan wanted to know. “Riddle says that, on certain days, you can have something sweet, if you behave.”

“Treacle tart,” he whispered.

Rabastan gave another nod. “That’s not too difficult,” he told him. “I’ll let Riddle and the others know when it’s time to go for food again.”

Harry finished his first cheeseburger and carefully sipped at his water; he knew full well if he ate quickly, then he would be sick, and he didn’t want to risk his jailers being angry with him. “I... I guess there are things I’m not allowed to ask, right?”

His guard nodded at him. “Yes, of course,” he replied, shifting slightly against the wall. “You’re not allowed to ask where we are, how long you’ll be here, or to go home. Other than that,” he went on, spreading his hands, “you can ask whatever you like.”

Harry swallowed; of course, wanted to know the answers to all of those questions, but he knew better than to talk back. “So, why am I here?”

Rabastan blinked. “I’m sorry?”

Harry tentatively took another French fry from its box. “Well, I’ve got to admit, it doesn’t wholly make sense to me,” he answered. “Riddle has already been sentenced for killing my parents, and it’s not like I was available to testify, given that I was in hospital, and little more than a baby at the time. If he gets caught again...” Harry shook his head. “They’ll likely put him away again.”

Rabastan considered that for a moment. “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” he answered. “Well, I do know why you’re here, and we haven’t been told that you can’t know why.”

Harry looked up, hoping his expression was a positive one as he carefully unwrapped his second cheeseburger. “Okay,” he said.

“Riddle has needs,” Rabastan stated, “and he would like to have a companion, now that he’s out of the prison.”

Harry swallowed his bite too quickly, and hastily took ahold of his bottle of water to prevent choking or coughing. “Y...yeah?” he asked.

“He’s chosen you,” Rabastan said, his dark eyes filled with wonderment. “You should consider it an honor to be a gang leader’s chosen companion. You’ll be constantly looked after, your every wish fulfilled. All you have to do is be nice and lie back every now and again—which means whenever he wants it—and you can have whatever you want.”

Harry shuddered, but masked it by taking another bite of his cheeseburger. “And... And he actually wants me?” he asked.

Rabastan nodded. “Yes. He’s risked breaking out of prison and bringing you here, Harry. What does that tell you?”

_That he’s certifiable_, Harry thought to himself. “I... I guess it means that he really wants me,” he said quietly with a shrug. “Not to sound ungrateful. I’m just not used to people wanting me, is all,” he whispered.

Rabastan nodded. “Well, as soon as Riddle thinks you’re ready, you won’t have to be shackled anymore, and you can walk around down here as much as you like. Once that happens, he’ll want to get you things. What do you like?”

“Books,” Harry said softly.

“What kind of books?”

“Chemistry or physics,” he said.

Rabastan nodded. “Okay. We can get you those things.” He hesitated for a moment. “Once Riddle thinks you’ve been behaving down here, you’ll be allowed upstairs and put into a proper bedroom. Then, we’ll wait a few days until you’re ready, and then the two of you will test out being together.”

Harry nodded, trying to keep his food down. “All right,” he whispered.

Rabastan, seeing that Harry had finished everything, gathered the trash and moved behind Harry to shackle him. “You’ve done well today,” he told him. “I’ll loosen the braces; Riddle told me I could if you behaved.”

“Thank you, Rabastan,” Harry said softly.

Rabastan nodded. “Try and get some rest. It’s after ten,” he said, and picked up the trash with a flourish before he left the basement.

. . .

Rolf Scamander, fresh from his graduation at Wartsmoth Academy for Gifted Students and a few weeks that summer traveling across Scandinavia with his girlfriend, walked into Tulliallan Castle with a slip of paper gripped in his hand. Written on the paper were instructions as to which room he had been instructed to go to, and managed to find it quickly. After his trip to Scandinavia with Luna, he had joined an official boot camp for Scotland Yard hopefuls, just finishing up the training the previous evening, with his commanding officer informing him that he could be used as an assistant on a kidnapping case.

Rolf found the room he had been instructed to go to, and saw that there was a woman with brown hair, sitting at a desk, while Professor Lupin himself was sitting on a shelf behind her, just in front of a massive window. “Chief Inspector and Professor Lupin?” he asked, pushing the door open and standing in the doorway.

“Just ‘Remus’, Rolf,” said his former physical education professor as he hopped off from his seat and strode forward. “You’re all graduated now, so no need for formalities.”

Rolf smiled and shook his hand. “Very well, Remus.” Rolf turned to his wife, and smiled at the woman. “Does that mean I call you ‘Dora’?” he asked.

Dora smiled and got to her feet. “Of course it does,” she replied, shaking his hand. “Welcome to Scotland Yard. I take it Oliver Wood sent you?”

“He’s my commanding officer, so, yes,” Rolf replied, handing over the note the Wood had written for him to present to Dora.

Dora nodded, inspecting the note before folding it up and pocketing it. “Very well, then. Have you been following the news?”

Rolf sighed at that, dragging a hand through his dark brown hair. “How can you not? Luna was absolutely devastated when we got the news when we were backpacking three weeks ago. She’s been inconsolable ever since; we had to cut the trip short.”

Remus put an arm around Dora. “We’re all devastated, Rolf,” he said plainly.

“But, you were able to get into the boot camp, due to coming home early,” Dora put in. “That’s a small miracle.” She sighed. “Wood said that you’re one of the best recruits he’s seen in years. I trained with Wood, so I don’t take what he says lightly. You’re going to be assisting me in our efforts to solve Harry’s kidnapping and bring him home.”

Rolf’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

Dora nodded. “Yes. If this goes well, and you’re truly an asset to us by the end of things, this will count towards the preliminary field work required to get into the official training program for Scotland Yard. You’ll be able to put it on your application.”

Rolf nodded. “Whatever I can do, Dora, I’m here.”

Dora smiled. “Commissioner Moody has heard your praises from Wood these past couple of days, and he’s anxious to make you a part of the team sooner rather than later. He’s fully prepared to sign off on you joining the training program, once we bring Harry home, if you do as good a job as we think you’ll do.”

Rolf grinned. “Thank you very much for this opportunity.”

“Oh, don’t thank me yet,” Dora replied. “This isn’t going to be a walk in Hyde Park, Rolf. This is going to be steady work, without much sleep or time to eat, for the foreseeable future. We don’t know where Riddle and his gang are keeping Harry, but we’re going to do whatever we can to find him.”

Rolf swallowed. “Well, then I suppose we have our work cut out for us, don’t we?”

“Indeed, we do,” Remus said darkly. “And Dora has your first assignment.”

“What would you like me to do, Dora?” Rolf asked.

“A car has been assigned to take you to Wartsmoth Academy,” Dora explained. “You’re going to be interviewing Professor Severus Snape face-to-face. Deputy Commissioner Shacklebolt has already had a phone interview with him, but he believes he would respond better with a face-to-face interview.”

Rolf blinked. “Is Professor Snape a suspect?”

“Not that we’re aware of,” Remus said quietly. “What we do know is, Harry was last confirmed to be with him before the abduction took place.”

Rolf nodded. “All right. I’ll do my best. I was never his favorite student, but I always did well in the science courses.”

“Maybe that’ll work in your favor,” Dora said, fetching him a notepad and pen. She also took out a badge and put it around Rolf’s neck, before nodding in approval. “This will grant you some authority within the unit. This way, people will know who you are. The driver is instructed to take you directly to Wartsmoth. It is a good forty-five minute drive, so read over the notes that I, Deputy Commissioner Shacklebolt, and Commissioner Moody have given to you. Try not to go off script; we wouldn’t want to scare him.”

Rolf nodded. “Understood.”

“Better hurry,” Remus said. “The professors usually spend the days leading up to the start-of-term making up their final lesson plans. Severus is usually angry if we interrupt him during his chemistry experiments. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of interrupting something as important as a lesson plan.”

Rolf scoffed. “Let the games begin, then,” he said, saluting both Remus and Dora before he headed out of the office.

. . .

Severus had answered the questions of his former student, Rolf Scamander, as best he could, before the young man ultimately went on his way. He’d given no new information, and had given the same account as he had done when Deputy Commissioner Shacklebolt had spoken to him on the phone in Albus’s office. Severus spent the next two days wandering around his classroom and inner quarters, knowing just what could happen if he came clean about the entirety his relationship with Harry.

“If I come clean, it could mean his death,” Severus whispered into the silence of his living room, and shook his head. “If Riddle got wind that I ever reciprocated feelings for him, he could see it as an act of defiance. He’s that mad.”

Severus dragged a hand through his black hair, wondering what could be done in this situation, and found it to be lose-lose. He needed Harry; he came to this conclusion directly on the second day after Rolf had questioned him, and he had no idea what to do with this sudden onslaught of information. Slowly, Severus got to his feet and wandered over to his bookshelf, where he had unceremoniously shoved his old chemistry textbook, the one he had taken from Harry.

“Time to let go,” he said softly, turning towards the fireplace, one that he always had lit, due to the perpetually cool temperature of the school’s basement. He crossed over towards it, and systematically ripped out the pages from the book—just the back ones—of the tormented teenager he once was. He shook his head then, falling back into the wingback chair before the fireplace, and watched as the papers curled and burned into a pile of ashes. The book fell to the floor as his eyes grew heavy, and whispered, brokenly, “Harry... Harry... I’m so sorry... I love you,” he whispered as he fell into a troubled sleep.

. . . 

Harry hadn’t been shackled to the mattress in the basement for a good week, and so he’d been spending time wandering up and down the small space. He had also gotten more food over the past several days, so suffice it to say, he was getting his strength back. The best part had been a copy of _A Brief History of Time_ by Stephen Hawking, which Rabastan had brought to him, and told him that it was from Riddle. Harry had thanked him, and spent hours pouring over the text he’d been given, as there was not much else to do, really.

Harry was reading his book on the mattress—which now had two pillows and a thin blanket due to his good behavior—when the door squeaked open. It didn’t frighten Harry as much as it did, for Rabastan and he seemed to have a rapport, even though Harry would never forgive him for what he’d put Dora through as a teenager. He kept reading his book, without looking up, the scent of pizza wafting into his nostrils, wondering what he and Rabastan would be talking about that day.

“Harry.”

The voice was not Rabastan’s, and Harry immediately looked up, his blood going cold as he saw Riddle standing before him. “Hello,” he said softly.

Riddle stepped forward, and presented Harry with a pizza box. “Rabastan told me that you liked extra cheese and pepperoni.”

Harry tentatively set his book aside before taking the box. “Thank you,” he said, noticing many water bottles in Riddle’s other hand.

Riddle gave a stiff nod and perched at the edge of the bed; this frightened Harry, as Rabastan had kept his distance since he’d been permitted to not be shackled up. “I thought I would have my dinner with you, Harry.”

Harry swallowed, knowing he had to play this safe. “If you like.”

Riddle arched an eyebrow, but nevertheless opened the pizza box and helped himself to a slice, chewing it slowly. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” Harry replied. “The book and the blanket and not being shackled helps.”

“You’ve only got yourself to thank for that, Harry,” Riddle told him. “Rabastan tells me of how well you’ve been behaving. Pretty soon, we can move you upstairs.”

Harry managed to select a slice of pizza, chewing it slowly. “Why...?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Why did you pick me?” he whispered. “I mean, you could’ve had anyone, or gone anywhere once you escaped prison. Why would you choose to stay here?”

Riddle smirked. “You’ve figured out we’re still in the U.K., then?”

Harry shrugged; his shoulders were thinner since his captivity. “Just a guess.”

Riddle nodded. “Very good,” he told him. “And I chose you, Harry, because, when you came to see me, I came to the direct conclusion that you had the most bewitching green eyes that I’d ever laid eyes on. From the moment I saw them, and witnessed your passion, I knew that I had to escape prison, and make you mine.”

“I...” Harry hesitated. “I’ll need some time to...”

“Of course,” Riddle replied, his tone indulgent. “I don’t expect a switch to be flipped and for you to fall head over heels in love with me. That’s only in fairy tales.”

“Was it true, what the papers said?” Harry asked him. “Are you incapable of love?”

Riddle shrugged. “I don’t know. All I do know is, I’ve felt different ever since you came to see me that day, Harry. Could you feel it, too? A pull?”

Harry sighed. “I... I don’t know,” he admitted.

Riddle nodded. “That’s all right. We cannot have all the answers.” He pulled a package of moist towelettes from his pocket, making quick work of cleaning his hands before he permitted his eyes to scan over Harry. “You are a very handsome young man, you know.”

Harry lowered his eyes and placed his barely-eaten slice of pizza back into the box. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, and accepted a moist towelette for himself at Riddle’s offering. “I don’t really think of myself in that way.”

“Well,” Riddle said, thinking it over, “I suppose I shall have to teach you, then.”

Harry blinked, raising his eyes to Riddle’s. “Sir?”

“Oh, I quite like that,” Riddle said, his voice almost a purr as he moved the pizza box out of the way and crawled towards Harry. “Say it again.”

Harry let out an uncomfortable noise as he moved backwards, to the point where he was very nearly plastered against the wall behind him. “Sir...”

“Oh, that’s right,” Riddle said, crawling closer still, snake-like in his movements, as he grabbed ahold of Harry’s jaw with one hand, and his wrist with the other. “Just relax. I promise, you’ll like it,” he told him, smashing his lips to his.

Harry struggled in Riddle’s grip, not liking it at all, and realized then that all he would ever want is Severus Snape. He wretched further still, and let out a disgusted sound when Riddle’s tongue escaped through his lips. Thinking quickly, Harry bit down on it as hard as he could, before the shocked caused Riddle to double back, and Harry kicked him in the chest. “Don’t you ever touch me like that again!” Harry shouted at him.

Riddle’s eyes flashed at Harry’s defiance. “You will love me, Harry,” he declared then, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and lifting him, before he slammed him into the wall, facing away from him. “Perhaps we can do this in a manner that you’re more accustomed to.”

Harry saw red as he flailed about, trying to get away from him. “You can starve me, you can beat me, but you cannot have me, because I belong to someone else!” he yelled then, forcing himself around then and hitting Riddle as hard as he could in the jaw.

Riddle immediately knocked Harry back onto the mattress; yes, the teenager would have some bruising and a black eye tomorrow. “You will learn,” he ground out then, before taking the pizza box, and leaving the bottles of water and everything else, before he swept out of the basement and slammed the door behind him.

. . . 

Severus’s eyes snapped open as the sun crept in through his threadbare curtains, and jumped to his feet. His heart was hammering in his chest, remembering a long-forgotten dream, and ran into the bathroom. He freshened up quickly, and threw on a fresh pair of clothes before dashing out of his inner rooms and classroom, and ran upstairs to where Albus’s office was. Trembling, he let himself in, and the headmaster straightened up in his seat.

“Severus?”

“Albus, you’ve got to call Scotland Yard,” Severus replied, shaking.

Albus blinked. “Severus, is something the matter?”

“It will be, if you don’t call them,” Severus whispered. “Please...”

Albus nodded, dialing the number of Deputy Commissioner Shacklebolt, and speaking to him briefly. “Yes, Severus wishes to speak to you. Yes. Thank you.”

Severus took the phone as Albus handed it over to him. “Deputy Commissioner?”

“Speaking,” he replied. “Severus?”

Severus ignored the informality. “Yes.”

“How can I help you today?”

“It is I who must help you, sir,” Severus replied.

“I’m all ears.”

Severus swallowed. “I... I have an idea of where Harry might be,” he said softly, and Albus almost immediately leaned forward, hoping to catch the full conversation.

. . . 

Harry blinked his eyes open as he heard a series of shouts, running, and slamming from somewhere above his head. He managed to push himself upwards into a sitting position, wincing slightly. He had been shackled again, and he absolutely hated it. However, as the door above him slammed open, he retreated as close to the wall behind him as he could, and he felt as if he was seeing things when he saw Rolf Scamander running down the stairs.

“R... Rolf?” Harry whispered.

“I’ve found him! He’s down here!” Rolf shouted, running forward. “Oh, my god, Harry!” he yelled out then, quickly unshackling Harry and accepting the hug he gave him. “Come on. I’ll help you out, okay?”

Harry nodded. “Okay,” he managed to get out.

“Let’s go, it’s all okay,” Rolf assured him, guiding him up into a sitting position before he helped him walk up the stairs and out of the basement.

“You’ve done well, Scamander,” said a gruff voice of a man who had scraggly hair and wore an eyepatch. “Ah, Potter. Good to see you’re all right. Commissioner Moody. How do you do?” he said, putting a blanket around Harry’s trembling shoulders.

“Fine, I think,” Harry said as he was led from a kitchen and through the living room, and towards the front door.

“People are waiting for you outside,” Moody told him with what Harry thought was supposed to be a smile. “Come on, then.”

Harry stepped through the front door as instructed, and let out a cry as he saw Remus and Dora waiting for him. He charged forward, out of Rolf’s grasp, leaving the blanket Moody had draped around him behind, and threw his arms around them both. He was sobbing, so happy to be back with them again, and sensed that they were crying, too.

Harry was immediately taken to the Berwick Infirmary, and soon learned from Remus and Dora that he was being held at Abbotsford House, near the River Tweed. Harry didn’t ask any questions, and, instead, answered the ones the various hospital staff gave him upon his arrival. Yes, he knew he was malnourished. Yes, he was well aware that he was lacking in Vitamin D. No, he wouldn’t like some tea, but some cold water would be lovely. Yes, he had been beaten. No, he had not been raped. He believed to have been drugged with chloroform by Bellatrix Lestrange in order to transport him to the house that had been his prison.

“They likely hid you somewhere in a manner most clever and brought you to the Edinburgh Station,” Dora informed him gently once Harry was in recovery, his attention rapt upon his guardians. “From there, we believe you were taken to the Tweedbank Railway Station, which is very close to Abbotsford.”

Harry carefully sipped at his water. “What’s... What’s going to happen to all of them?” he asked, looking from Remus to Dora and back again.

“They’ll be imprisoned, of course,” Remus said. “Good riddance.”

Harry nodded. “And Ron and Hermione? How are they?”

“Worried sick about you,” Dora confirmed with an indulgent smile. “We called them, let them know that we’ve found you and that you’re going to be all right. They’ve asked to come see you at the villa tomorrow, since you’ll be released by tonight. We said we’d check with you, but they insisted, I’m afraid.”

“I would like that,” Harry said softly.

Remus smiled. “Good. We... We’ve also discussed it with Albus and, pending your approval, we would like to get you an emotional support animal.”

Harry blinked. “Are you serious? A pet?”

Dora laughed. “Sort of like a pet, yes. It can be a dog or a cat. Whatever you want.”

“A puppy,” Harry said softly. “I... I’ve always wanted to rescue a puppy.”

“Well, we’ll go and fetch one for you tomorrow before Ron and Hermione come to the villa, then,” Remus said with a nod.

“When will we be going shopping for my books?” Harry asked, and Remus and Dora looked at one another. “I assume my class list for next term has come?”

Dora sighed. “Yes, of course it has, Harry, but you’re under no obligation to...”

“Yes, I am,” Harry said, his tone firm. “I want to finish my education. I’m not going to hide away from getting on with my life. I’ll still see Amelia—I’m sure we’ll have plenty to talk about, now that I’m free again. But, I want to go back. I have to. I didn’t stop my life when shit hit the fan with the Dursleys, and I certainly don’t intend to in the wake of me being released from Riddle’s captivity. I’m going to school on the first.”

Remus smiled. “You’re quite like Lily, you know. Fiercely determined, not to mention stubborn,” he put in, and Harry laughed.

“I suppose those attributes will be acceptable,” Dora said with a smirk.

“At the end of all this, I just want...”

“What?” Remus asked. “Anything. What do you want?”

“I just want to be Harry,” he admitted with a shrug. “Just Harry. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be, at the end of the day.”

Dora nodded. “And we’ll do everything in our power for it to be so,” she declared.


	10. Don’t Think Twice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When will we be going shopping for my books?” Harry asked, and Remus and Dora looked at one another. “I assume my class list for next term has come?”
> 
> Dora sighed. “Yes, of course it has, Harry, but you’re under no obligation to...”
> 
> “Yes, I am,” Harry said, his tone firm. “I want to finish my education. I’m not going to hide away from getting on with my life. I’ll still see Amelia—I’m sure we’ll have plenty to talk about, now that I’m free again. But, I want to go back. I have to. I didn’t stop my life when shit hit the fan with the Dursleys, and I certainly don’t intend to in the wake of me being released from Riddle’s captivity. I’m going to school on the first.”
> 
> Remus smiled. “You’re quite like Lily, you know. Fiercely determined, not to mention stubborn,” he put in, and Harry laughed.
> 
> “I suppose those attributes will be acceptable,” Dora said with a smirk.
> 
> “At the end of all this, I just want...”
> 
> “What?” Remus asked. “Anything. What do you want?”
> 
> “I just want to be Harry,” he admitted with a shrug. “Just Harry. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be, at the end of the day.”
> 
> Dora nodded. “And we’ll do everything in our power for it to be so,” she declared.

“Sure you’re all right?”

Harry turned to Remus and smiled up at him; they were standing just around the corner from the canteen, and Harry was due to meet Ron and Hermione for the first time since they had come to see him three days ago at the villa. “I’ll be all right.” Harry held a King Charles spaniel puppy in his arms, who had proven to be a worthy companion who was also exceptionally well-behaved over the past three days, whom Harry had called Andressa.

Remus nodded, reaching out and stroking Andressa behind her silken ear, and she immediately leaned into the touch. “The Board of Governors and Headmaster Dumbledore have all approved for you to have her with you at all times, provided that she stays on the leash, and doesn’t make a mess of anything.”

Harry nodded, pressing a kiss to the puppy’s forehead. “I remember,” he assured him. “I can’t wait to see what Ron and Hermione think of her. Hermione has been doing lots of research on the breed. Did you know that Queen Victoria had a dog like this?”

“Yes, I believe he was called Dash,” Remus replied thoughtfully with a smile. “All right, then. I have this evening free if you need me...”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry told him firmly. “Now that you’re married, you’re not using your rooms here anymore. Go home to Dora at the end of the night, like a good husband. She’ll miss you otherwise.”

Remus smiled. “You’re sure?”

Harry nodded. “Positive.” He leaned in, accepting Remus’s hug, before breaking away from him and moving to bring Andressa into the canteen with him. He heard the commotion of conversation, suddenly silenced, as he stepped inside, and then the whispers began. Half, he was assuming, were about his kidnapping and why he was back at school so soon, and the other half had to have been about Andressa.

“Harry!” Hermione cried out then, rushing forward. However, instead of embracing him in her usual exuberant fashion, her eyes immediately latched onto Andressa. “Oh, hello there, you beautiful creature!” she cried out, petting her.

“She’s adorable, mate,” Ron put in, walking up behind Hermione. “Think we can come with you to walk her after dinner?”

Harry nodded. “Course you can. Andressa needs to socialize often and early. At least, that’s what all the experts say.”

Hermione relieved Harry of Andressa as he moved to sit down, before she handed her back to him and plunked down beside him. “Where are you feeding her?”

“Certain table scraps are tolerated, Hermione,” he replied with a grin. “But, our headmaster says I’ve got to keep her food in our dorm room.”

“Sounds all right to me, mate. Windows were invented for a reason,” Ron told him.

Hermione cut a perfectly delectable piece of chicken and showed it to Harry. “Could she have a little taste of this?”

Harry nodded, inching Andressa forwards towards the treat, and the latter promptly gobbled up the mouthful she’d been given. “Good girl,” Harry told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He then placed her on his lap, and she settled into sleep as he sanitized his hands and tucked into a sandwich for dinner.

Once dinner and dessert were completed, Headmaster Dumbledore got up and addressed the school, welcoming back past students, formally welcoming the new ones, and stated how pleased he was that Harry was now back safe. Harry flushed when the entire canteen erupted in applause for him, and hid his face in Andressa’s fur. Once they were excused, Harry, Ron, and Hermione slipped out into the still-warm evening, with Harry gently setting Andressa onto the ground, to which the puppy began pulling him this way and that, wanting to establish territory immediately, but also to smell everything there was to smell.

“Will you have to go to court?” Hermione asked quietly.

Harry sighed, and leaned into Hermione’s arm as she put it around his shoulders. “Dora thinks I might have to.”

“Don’t they do video statements, mate?” Ron asked. “I mean, if you didn’t want to testify in front of a bunch of people, that is...”

“Dora’s looking into it,” Harry confirmed. “We just don’t know yet. It’s still the early days. We don’t even know when they’ll see a trial.”

“Harry’s right, Ron,” Hermione put in. “Sometimes, the justice system is so overworked that they just need time to get all their ducks in a row.”

Ron’s red brows went together. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that it could take years,” Hermione said realistically.

Harry smirked. “Still looking into being a solicitor?”

“Maybe,” Hermione said with a smile. “Although I do prefer the term barrister, but I suppose I’ll just have to work up to that.”

“What are you thinking about doing after graduation next term, mate?” Ron asked.

Harry sighed. “Well, I...”

“He doesn’t need to decide anything yet, Ron,” Hermione said, affixing him with a severe expression. “He’s just enjoying his freedom now.”

“With freedom comes decisions, Hermione,” Harry told her with a small smile as he kept a watchful eye on Andressa. “I appreciate you sticking up for me, really I do, but I’ve got an idea of my own.”

“Yeah, mate?” Ron asked. “Tell us.”

“Something to do with children,” Harry said quietly.

“Like, a social worker?” Hermione asked.

“Bigger,” he replied with a grin as they moved to sit upon a stone bench atop one of the school’s hills. “A children’s oncologist. I want to help children who have one of the worst diseases known to mankind.”

“That’s brilliant, mate!” Ron cried out.

Hermione gave Ron a woeful expression and crossed her arms. “How do you even know what oncology is, Ronald?” she asked him.

“It’s featured in Charlie’s latest series,” Ron replied, puffing out his chest out of pride for his older brother. “It’s a series about a young boy and his twin sister and they’ve got a dragon familiar, and the boy’s stricken with cancer—leukemia,” he explains. “The dragon has to sacrifice his scales, eventually, so that they can be ground up for a potential cure. The book starts when the twins are fourteen, and the last book takes place when they’re twenty-one, and again when they’re forty.”

“Why the time-jump?” Harry asks, patting his lap for Andressa to hop up onto it, which the puppy immediately did.

“Series and writers like to do that, apparently,” Ron explained. “They want you to see that the characters get the ending they deserve.”

“What happens at the end?” Hermione asked. “Charlie can’t have written it yet.”

“Charlie’s written the first book and part of the second already, plus the final chapter from the last book. They’re going to be eight,” Ron said proudly. “It turns out that the dragon is a lord in disguise and that only his true love can return him to his human form.”

“Is the girl his true love?” Harry asked with a grin, scratching Andressa’s throat.

Ron shook his head. “No. The boy is,” he said with a small smile. “The girl gets with her long-term crush at the end of the eighth book, and the boy gets with the dragon. The dragon was a literature professor, and he was cursed after he failed this witch’s son’s papers too many times to count, because he refused to do any work. Turns out that the son of the witch was the father of the twins.”

“Was he frozen in his dragon form to his age beforehand?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah,” Ron clarified. “Charlie says he’s in his mid-twenties.”

Harry considered that as Andressa fell asleep in his arms. “And, does Charlie have a title for it yet?” he asked.

“Not yet, but Charlie _does_ want permission to name that characters after us,” Ron said with a smile. “He wants you and Hermione to be the twins, and me to be the guy that the female twin falls for.”

“He’d change our last names, of course, wouldn’t he?” Hermione wanted to know.

“Oh, of course,” Ron replied. “Preliminary names he’s come up with are Harry and Hermione Lancaster, and Ron Northcott,” he explained.

“And the professor?” Harry queried.

Ron shrugged. “No ideas, as of yet.”

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger,” said a voice from behind them.

Ron and Hermione immediately got to their feet, but Harry remained sitting on the bench, and absentmindedly stroking Andressa.

“Professor Snape,” Hermione said eloquently.

“Sir,” Ron put in.

“I was wondering if you might permit me to have a word with Mr. Potter, if it is not objectionable to the pair of you,” Severus said.

Hermione worried her lower lip, before turning to face him. “Harry?” she asked, not wanting him to be uncomfortable.

Harry waved them off. “It’s all right,” he told the two of them. “I’ll meet you in the common area later, all right?”

“Sure, mate, whatever you want,” Ron replied, glaring at Severus for a moment before he and Hermione walked back towards the school entrance.

“May I sit?” Severus asked once they were out of sight. He watched as Harry shrugged, which he took as an assent, and sat upon the stone bench beside him. “That’s a lovely dog you’ve got there, Harry. What’s her name?”

“Andressa,” Harry replied, his tone thick.

“Lovely,” Severus said, although he was not looking at her, and, instead, was gazing openly at Harry, before his tore his eyes away, and offered his hand to the dog, who had awoken upon hearing his voice. “Hello, there,” he said gently.

Andressa promptly struggled out from Harry’s arms and nuzzled Severus’s hand, before she welcomed herself into his lap and settled down.

“Traitor,” Harry muttered.

Severus decided to ignore the comment. “I came out here to ask how you were fairing in the wake of Scotland Yard finding you. I’m told it was our own Rolf Scamander who was the one to do it.”

Harry gave a stiff nod. “He found me, yeah. And I’m all right. Thank you.”

“I told them that you were with me before you were taken.”

Harry swallowed. “So, you told the truth, then?”

“Not all of it,” Severus replied. “I didn’t tell them the purpose for your coming there.”

“And, what did you tell them?”

“That you wanted to know if you’d gotten into chemistry, and if I would tell you about the upcoming topics in that class.”

Harry gritted his teeth. “So, you’ve made me out to be a brat?” he said, his tone laced with anger and sarcasm. “Brilliant, sir. That’s just brilliant.”

“Harry, you know as well as I do what would have happened if they so much as assumed that the two of us were...”

“Were what?” Harry demanded, facing him for the first time. “There’s plenty more than what meets the eye between us, Severus.”

“But you know as well as I do that—”

“That you would lose everything if you allowed yourself to care for the brat who has been the bane of your existence since he entered this school. No, I understand completely, Severus,” he sneered, gathering up Andressa in his arms.

Severus got to his feet. “Harry...”

“Don’t block me in,” Harry growled at him, deliberately staring him down. “Let me go or I will scream, Severus, make no mistake.”

Severus swallowed then, but nevertheless moved out of his path. “Harry...”

“‘Potter’ will suffice just fine,” Harry said, obviously attempting to hold something back. “You didn’t mind it before, after all,” he whispered, and rushed back up to the entrance of the school, without looking back.

. . .

In the wake of the school year beginning, Harry had been to two therapy sessions, in which Amelia had informed him that they would eventually tackle whatever he wanted. He finally opened up to her again, detailing his captivity, which was then forwarded to Scotland Yard so as Harry wasn’t obligated to repeat himself. It was a pleasant experience, talking to Amelia, especially after nearly a month of not doing so. She was pleased, for good reason, that he had gotten out of his situation with Riddle, and was equally delighted with Andressa, who took a liking to Dr. Amelia Bones rather quickly.

The hot gossip topic, aside from Harry’s heroic rescue by graduate of Wartsmoth Academy by Rolf Scamander, was the notion that life, truly, went on. Harry was pleased to see that Hermione wasn’t fazed by Anthony Goldstein and Susan Bones’ relationship; in fact, she wished them nothing but happiness. Harry also had it on good authority that Amelia and her partner, Rosmerta, approved of Anthony for their daughter, and things seemed to be all right with the world for the time being.

Harry decided to take a big step for his academic future, and began enrolling at various universities throughout the United Kingdom. His first choice was the University of Edinburgh, and he was pleased when Remus informed him that he could live at the villa for as long as he wanted to, if he got into a local school. Ron and Hermione, although supportive, secretly hoped that they would attend schools back in England, with Hermione’s first choice being Oxford University, and Ron’s being University College, London.

Upon the third Friday of term, Hermione was due to turn eighteen-years-old, and Harry, Ron, Neville, Draco, Dean, Ginny, and Luna were planning something special for her. The evenings were still warm, and so they selected a quiet part of campus and arranged a potluck picnic for her, with everyone selecting a dish to cook, and presenting it. Of course, they each would have a gift for her as well, and Ron, under the guise of a walk with Hermione—as the pair was steadily growing closer ever since the summer, in the wake of Harry’s kidnapping and recovery—would bring her to the celebrations.

On the night in question, Harry kept a good hold of Andressa’s lead, plus the gift he’d gotten for Hermione, and the dish he’d made, which was a spaghetti bolognese. He arrived at the location in good time, noticing Draco, Neville, Ginny, and Luna setting everything up, while Dean and Rolf, who had come down unexpectedly for the occasion, were talking to one another. Harry stepped forward and placed his food and gift in their proper places, leaving Andressa to greet Rolf properly while he finished with the decorations.

“What did you make, Luna?” Harry asked her.

“Limpa bread and loganberry jam,” she replied brightly. “I wanted to bring a bit of Scandinavia to the evening.”

Ginny grinned as she stood on her toes, hanging a band of fairy lights in a low-hanging tree branch overhead. “I’ve never had Swedish cuisine, other than their meatballs,” she confessed in a soft voice. “I brought a chicken and mushroom pie.”

“I brought spaghetti bolognese,” Harry said with a shrug, holding the ladder in place as Ginny climbed it, wrapping another band of lights around a higher branch.

“Gingerbread,” Dean said, from where he stood a couple of feet away. “Mum’s recipe. Mum Weasley,” he amended with a smile.

“I had to beg my mother to give over some old Malfoy recipes, and she did,” Draco said, and Neville put an arm around his shoulders. “I’ll never forgive Dad for what he did to you, Harry, and even though we’ve never been best mates, I hope I can call you a friend one day.”

Harry reached out then and shook Draco’s hand. “It wasn’t your fault, Draco, although I do appreciate the sentiment,” he said with a smile. “What did you bring tonight?”

“Apple crumble,” Draco said with a smile.

“And you, Neville?” Harry queried.

“Just a garden salad,” he replied.

“Oh, you, so modest,” Draco said, standing on his toes and kissing him on the cheek. “It’s from his own garden, believe it or not, filled with things he’s cultivated all summer.”

Neville blushed, but took ahold of Draco’s collar and dragged him closer, kissing him firmly on the lips. “You’re terrible,” he said.

Draco grinned, nipping at Neville’s lips. “Don’t pretend like you don’t love it.”

“What did you bring, Rolf?” Harry asked.

Rolf smiled, absentmindedly stroking Andressa in his arms; she appeared quite content and mellow with him. “Toad in the hole,” he replied. “It’s actually my dad’s specialty, passed down from Scamander to Scamander. Taught me how to make it the summer Luna came to visit, when she was fourteen and I was sixteen.”

“The summer where I think our relationship became forever,” Luna said softly, crossing over to him, a small lantern in her hands, as she pressed a soft kiss onto his cheek.

Rolf smiled indulgently at her, tucking a bit of stray hair behind her ear as she turned around and placed the lantern just so. “How’ve you been holding up?”

Harry smiled. “Good. Better than I have been, of course. My therapist has been helping me quite a bit, and so has Andressa. And all of you, of course.”

Rolf gave Harry a nod. “Anytime,” he told him. He looked around at the buffet table then, and raised his eyebrows. “Who made the cake?”

“Ron did,” Ginny called, going to climb the ladder again, and Harry rushed into position to hold it in place. “Mum came down to help him, of course. It’s a vanilla cake with Italian Swiss buttercream; Hermione’s favorite.”

“_Honestly_, Ronald!” was heard from just outside the vicinity, and Ginny did her very best not to squeak as she hung the final band of fairy lights, and climbed down from the ladder, which Harry promptly moved to one side. “I am _perfectly_ capable of walking on my own, thank you very much—!”

“‘Mione, with all due respect, you’re blindfolded,” Ron replied, his tone patient as he led her towards them, a grin on his face as he saw how perfect everything looked. “Okay. Shall I take it off you, then?”

“I can do it!” Hermione replied, pulling away from him and dragging off the pink scrap of material from her face, and nearly stumbled in her shock, Ron reaching out and holding her so that she wouldn’t fall. “Oh... Oh, my...”

“Happy Birthday, Hermione!” everyone shouted.

Hermione shook her head, turning around and throwing her arms around Ron. “Thank you so much,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his cheek, before breaking away, and dashing towards Harry, and throwing herself in his arms.

“Happy Birthday, ‘Mione,” he said, keeping a good grip on her.

Hermione giggled in his ear. “My wish came true.”

Harry laughed back. “And what was that?”

“It’s fairly obvious, isn’t it?”

Harry shook his head. “Uh, Ron falling at your feet?”

Hermione let out a noise of slight indignation before pulling back, and gently smacking Harry on the shoulder. “No! It was that you’d come back to us, and you have.”

Harry smiled. “I’m not going anywhere, ‘Mione.”

Hermione smiled at him. “Good. I couldn’t stand to lose my brother,” she whispered, before pulling him back into her arms again.

. . .

Harry felt anything but dignified as he sat in the courtroom, on the final day of September, which was verdict day for Vernon and Petunia Dursley. Remus and Dora flanked him, and Harry felt much better to have them there. Wartsmoth had declared it a holiday, for some odd reason, and so no classes would be missed that afternoon. Ron and Hermione were watching Andressa for the day, and had promised to let her run about the grounds, off-leash, because Hagrid was going to be with the two of them.

Judge Fudge came out of his chambers, his purple robes sweeping around him as he moved to sit in his seat. He shuffled his presumably important paperwork before him then, before he nodded at Barrister Scrimgeour, and barely glanced at Solicitor Thicknesse. He turned then towards the jury pool, and inclined a pale brown and silvery eyebrow towards them as the foreman got to his feet. “Has the jury reached a verdict?” he asked.

“We have, Judge Fudge,” said the man.

“On the charges of endangering the welfare of a minor, how do you find?”

“We find the defendants, Vernon and Petunia Dursley, guilty,” the man replied.

“On the charges of physical child abuse, how do you find?”

“We find the defendants guilty.”

“On the charges of physical neglect, how do you find?”

“We find the defendants guilty.”

“On the charge of medical neglect, how do you find?”

“We find the defendants guilty.”

Judge Fudge looked down at his paperwork. “On the charge of educational neglect, until the child was the age of eleven, how do you find?”

“We find the defendants guilty.”

“On the charge of emotional neglect, how do you find?”

“We find the defendants guilty.”

“On the charge of psychological abuse, how do you find?”

“We find the defendants guilty.”

The judge inclined his head. “On the charge of rape of a minor, as perpetrated by Vernon Dursley to Harry Potter, how do you find?”

“We find Vernon Dursley guilty.”

“On the charge of conspiracy to commit rape of a minor, as perpetrated by Petunia Dursley to Harry Potter, how do you find?”

“We find Petunia Dursley guilty.”

“So say you all?” Judge Fudge asked.

The foreman nodded. “So say we all, judge.”

“The High Court of Justice thanks the jury for its service,” Judge Fudge said, looking as if he had aged a good twenty years. “You are excused.” He waited for the jury pool to clear out then, and turned back towards Barrister Scrimgeour and Solicitor Thicknesse. “We have previously set the date for sentencing for the second of May. Is this still agreeable to you all?”

“We are most looking forward to it, Your Honor,” Barrister Scrimgeour said.

“It is agreeable to us, as well, Your Honor,” Solicitor Thicknesse told him.

“Very well,” Judge Fudge said. “Court is adjourned pending sentencing,” he said, and slammed down his gavel before he swept from the room.

Remus put a hand on Harry’s arm. “Let’s go, Harry,” he said softly.

Harry nodded, and Dora carefully placed a hand on his shoulder, as they both guided him out of the courtroom.

“_Freak_!” Petunia hissed as they walked by.

“After all we’ve done for you, boy, and _this_ is how you repay us?!” Vernon demanded.

“Control your clients, Thicknesse,” Scrimgeour growled, before shooting an apologetic glance at Harry as they moved to leave.

“Everyone all right?” Remus asked as they stood outside.

“Fine,” Harry told him.

“Darling?” Remus asked, and Harry turned towards Dora, who looked a bit pale.

“Sorry... Excuse me,” she said, and bolted from the area, a hand to her lips.

“Um...” Remus said, standing there awkwardly.

“Go and make sure she’s all right,” Harry said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Go, I’m all right, I promise,” he said, taking note of Remus’s hesitation.

Remus nodded. “We’ll be right back.”

Harry nodded back at him. “I’m fine,” he assured him. Harry watched as Remus retreated back to where the loos were, having a distinct feeling as to why Dora was so sick. He wandered towards a pair of windows, close by the doors, and stared out them, watching the cars go by on the busy streets.

“Quite a commotion in there.”

Harry turned at the familiarity of the tone, and his jaw set. “Snape.”

Severus swallowed and cautiously stepped forward. “I wondered if I might have a word with you, Harry. About... Well, everything.”

Harry shook his head. “I’d rather not.”

“Harry...”

“No,” Harry said, seeing Remus and Dora coming into view. “Let’s not do this. It’s bad enough that Remus knows and is covering for us,” he whispered without thinking, before clamping a hand to his mouth and dashing off, following his guardians outside before Severus could attempt to catch him or call him back.

. . . 

On a rare Sunday night at the villa, Harry could hear Dora cooking in the kitchen, the scent of the Sunday roast permeating throughout the house. Remus was in his study, working on lesson plans for the coming week, and Harry was teaching Andressa some tricks up in his bedroom. It was quite a comical thing, when Andressa and Valencia met for the first time, but now both creatures were completely at ease with one another, with Valencia watching Harry’s efforts in teaching his canine companion from her perch upon a window seat.

“Remus! Harry! Dinner!” came a shout from below, around a quarter of an hour later.

Harry scooped up Andressa in his arms, clicking his tongue for Valencia to follow, as he opened his bedroom door and trooped downstairs.

“Get in some good training?” Remus asked, ruffling Harry’s always-unkempt air.

Harry laughed. “Tried to,” he said, dodging his hands and failing desperately as they walked into the dining room, and was overwhelmed with the scents that came out of there. He took in the roast, which Dora had placed onto a decorative platter in the center of the table, as well as a bowl of boiled potatoes, a trencher of Yorkshire puddings, broccoli, peas, carrots, and stuffing. “Wow, Dora, looks great!”

Dora beamed at the compliment, taking off her oven mitts and untying her apron. “Thank you, Harry,” she said. “There’s also treacle tart for pudding.”

Remus stepped forward then and kissed his wife lovingly, before he pulled out a chair for her and sat her into it. “Go on, Harry. Sit,” he told him.

Harry nodded, sinking into his typical chair and gently laying Andressa down at his feet, who immediately curled up and fell asleep. He waited patiently for Remus to sit at the head of the table, whereupon he carved and sliced the roast expertly, and served Dora, Harry, and finally himself, as Harry set to work in passing the side dishes, making sure to serve Dora first, until everyone had a bit of everything. Harry grinned when he was encouraged to tuck in and did so with gusto; he could finally eat somewhat normally after his captivity had ended nearly two months ago, and was finally feeling safe at long last.

“Looks like rain the next couple of weeks,” Remus said conversationally as he cut into one of his pieces of roast.

“What will that mean for your class?” Dora wanted to know.

“_Please_ don’t make us go to the library and look up history of exercise again,” Harry groaned as he picked up a Yorkshire pudding. “I wanted to bleach my eyes afterwards.”

Dora covered her mouth with her hand. “Why?” she asked, trying and failing not to laugh at the image that her mind conjured up. “What happened?”

“I think Harry was referring to the article he found about a peasant dragging a cart through horse manure,” Remus put in.

“He was a merchant,” Harry very nearly spat, glaring at Remus. “It’s a wonder all of his wares didn’t get dirty.”

“They likely smelled terrible,” Dora said with a giggle as she stabbed a piece of carrot. “But, then again, most people smelt terribly back then.”

“So good for upper arm strength, not to mention the powerful legs needed to perform such a task,” Remus went on, and Harry stuck his tongue out at him.

“Please tell me you’ve something else in mind,” Harry begged.

“Actually, yes,” Remus said with a smile. “It’s meant to be a surprise, but as long as you promise not to tell anyone...”

“I won’t tell!” Harry said quickly, nearly bouncing up and down in his chair in excitement, and Dora giggled at the display. “Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

“All right, all right, settle down,” Remus said, his tone gentle. “They’ve completed construction on the indoor gym over the summer,” he went on, and Harry’s eyes widened. “We have a weight training area now, another area full of various exercise equipment, a small yoga studio, a tennis court, a swimming pool, and an indoor track. Doesn’t that sound amazing?”

Harry picked up a piece of broccoli with his fork. “How did you get the space?”

“The basement in the gym building hasn’t been utilized in ages,” Remus replied. “We simply cleared it out and expanded it. No big deal.”

Harry chewed his broccoli in a moment of contemplation. “Well, as long as the area was restored and not damaged...”

“You prefer restoration as opposed to remodeling, Harry?” Dora asked.

Harry nodded. “I do.”

“Any particular reason?” she wanted to know.

Harry sighed. “I understand that remodeling in order to achieve the ‘next big thing’, as it were, to construction areas can be seen, in many ways, as beneficial. However, it also has a mean and degrading side to it, as if they’re saying that older architecture isn’t worth preserving, and, in extreme cases, you have to proclaim a place a goddamn historical landmark in order to ‘save’ it, so to speak.”

“Perhaps you should become a historian, Harry,” Remus put in.

“Or a public speaker, or a barrister,” Dora said.

Harry smiled and shook his head. “That’s all right. I’ve chosen my career path.”

“A brilliant one,” Remus told him.

“So, what’s all this about?” Harry asked after they’d finished eating their dinner, and were enjoying the lull of silence that followed, before Dora was due to rush into the kitchen to fetch the treacle tart she’d made. “Are we celebrating something?”

Dora bit her lip then, considering it, and visibly relaxed when Remus took her by the hand and slowly dragged the pad of his thumb across her knuckles. “Well, I suppose we are celebrating something tonight, Harry,” she said quietly.

“What’s going on?” he asked, looking from one of them, to the other, and back again. As if on cue, Andressa let out a low-pitched whine, and nestled her nose into Harry’s leg.

“I’ll go get dessert while you tell him, love,” Remus said, getting to his feet and pressing a kiss to Dora’s temple before walking out into the kitchen.

Dora smiled at Harry then, her brown eyes filled with an emotion that Harry could only describe as joy. “I’m pregnant,” she said quietly.

Harry’s jaw dropped then, but was quickly replaced by a large grin. “You’re pregnant?” he asked with a wave of excitement. “I’m going to get a sibling?”

Dora’s cheeks warmed and she felt touched at the notion that Harry would think of the child as a brother or sister. “A brother,” she said quietly. “It’s a boy. He’ll be here in the spring.”

Harry let out an overjoyed shout and launched to his feet, circling the table and throwing his arms around Dora. “That’s bloody brilliant!” he cried out.

“We’re quite pleased you think so, Harry,” Remus said, coming back into the dining room with a tray, which contained the treacle tart, a server, several plates, and dessert forks. “It was a shock, to say the least.”

“Not that we weren’t planning on children at all,” Dora said quickly, placing a hand on her stomach, “or wanting you to think that we’re replacing you.”

“I know you’re not,” Harry told her, and found that he couldn’t stop smiling as he made his way back to his chair. “You’re not that kind of couple.”

Remus smiled. “Of course we’re not.”

“Don’t think we ever could be,” Dora said softly.

“Any names yet?” Harry wanted to know.

Remus laughed as he finally served dessert. “Oh, we haven’t thought about it that far yet. We just found out on Friday.”

“We’ve plenty of time,” Dora assured him.

“Time,” Harry whispered, accepting a generous slice of the tart. “Something I used to think I didn’t have enough of. Now I’ve got it in bunches.”

. . . 

The annual Halloween Ball at Wartsmoth Academy arrived, with Harry, Ron, and Hermione going with a group of friends to celebrate. Harry went with Luna that year, as friends, as Rolf couldn’t get off duty from Scotland Yard. Ron had asked Hermione, and had been accepted, and Ginny and Dean would be there as a couple, along with Neville and Draco. The canteen was decorated similarly to last year, with spooky music playing in the stereo surround sound system as always.

Harry needed all of the distraction he could get, as Riddle, Malfoy, and the three members of the Lestrange family were being put on trial that day for his kidnapping. Harry was wondering how Draco was doing, given that his father, aunt, and uncle were being tried that day in connection to a crime all to do with him. As he stood at the punch bowl, sipping at the red liquid, he noticed Draco, who was carefree, dancing with Neville, and was pleased to see that both his friends—yes, friends, as he now figured that Draco fell into that category—looked so happy.

Luna didn’t seem too keen on dancing that night, so they just watched Neville and Draco, Ginny and Dean, and Ron and Hermione take over the floor. Luna was very understanding towards Harry in the wake of the term beginning, letting him know that she was there if he wanted to talk with someone, but never forcing the issue.

“Luna?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Why were you so understanding?” he asked. “After I got back.”

“I know what it’s like to deal with loss,” she said softly.

“Yeah?”

“My mum,” she told him, her blue eyes filling with sadness for a moment. “She was a very gifted chemist, but her experiments were a bit controversial.”

“What happened?” Harry asked.

“She was working with some red phosphorus,” she said softly. “The experiment went awry, and she developed a terrible respiratory tract infection. She hid her symptoms quite well, because she wanted to continue her research. As such, the prolonged exposure weakened her immune system considerably, and so there wasn’t much to be done, in the end. I was nine.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry replied automatically.

“That’s all right,” she replied. “I’ve got Dad, and Rolf, and the Scamander family has been very welcoming to me since Rolf and I became serious.”

“What was her name?”

“Pandora,” Luna said wistfully. “I always promised myself that, if I ever had a daughter, I’d name them after my mum.”

“Same,” Harry said quietly. He turned then, feeling a pair of dark eyes on him, and swallowed slightly then.

“Who else knows?”

“What?” Harry asked, turning back to Luna.

“That you have feelings for our science professor,” she said quietly.

Harry sighed. “Ron and Hermione do, and Remus. It... It slipped out when I was under Riddle’s captivity,” he added.

Luna nodded. “One thing I realized, after Mum died, was how short life has the capability of being,” she told him.

Harry blinked. “I don’t follow.”

“Meaning that you’ve only got one life to live, Harry. How are you going to spend it?” At his hesitation, she placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Go. I’ll cover for you.”

Harry nodded then, pressing a kiss to Luna’s temple and made to leave, but saw that Severus had slipped out of the canteen already. Harry dashed after him, heart pounding in his chest as he tried to follow the man who had haunted his dreams for over a year. He ran down the hallway that led directly to the basement of the school, and down the stairs, before he yanked open the classroom door, and saw Severus standing there.

“Potter.”

Harry shook his head at Severus then. “Don’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let’s stop, all of this,” he said softly as he stepped forward. “The animosity, the secrets. I may not be ready to hear it all, but tonight...”

“What, Potter?”

“Tonight, I’m Harry,” he declared to his professor then, closing the remainder of the distance between them. “And tonight, I need you,” he said, and threw his arms around the older man, kissing him as hard as he could, feeling as if his heart would leap from his chest as Severus kissed him back.

. . . 

Harry and Severus had kept their distance from one another in the wake of the Halloween Ball, not wanting to arise suspicion from anyone. All that had happened was nearly an hour of snogging, with Harry trying to take it further, and Severus blocking his attempts at every turn. It had been a bittersweet farewell then, when Harry left the science classroom, but the pair had not spoken about anything other than physics as November swept by.

On the final Monday in November, physical education was cancelled for the day as Remus took Harry to London, where Riddle, Malfoy Sr., and the three members of the Lestrange family were being tried. Harry was shocked to find out that Judge Fudge was on the case again, and that Barrister Scrimgeour was in charge of the prosecution. Harry would be testifying in court that afternoon, and Remus went along as his guardian, as he was still underage.

“Don’t be nervous,” Remus told him gently, after they’d been led into an antechamber off the courtroom. “Barrister Scrimgeour walked you through everything. You’ve got nothing to worry about, because he’s your ally in there.”

“You’ll be in there?” Harry whispered.

Remus nodded. “Yes, I’ll be in there. I’ll sit where they direct me, but Barrister Scrimgeour has requested that I’ll be close by, so that you can see me.”

Harry started when the door opened, and a bailiff came inside to escort Harry to the witness stand, and Harry hesitated. He smiled slightly when Remus squeezed his hand and left him to head into the courtroom itself via the visitor’s entrance. Harry moved to follow the bailiff, and smoothed any wrinkles he thought he saw in his suit before he was directed to the witness stand, and made to swear to tell the truth, before he sat down. He was relieved to see that there was a large pitcher, filled with ice water, and a cup provided for him.

“State your name for the record,” Judge Fudge said.

“Harry James Potter,” he replied.

“Thank you,” Judge Fudge said. “Questioning of this witness may begin.”

Harry listened as best he could to the questions being rattled off; Evan Rosier was the attorney for all five people involved in Harry’s kidnapping, who were all sitting at one long table. Evan Rosier was the official solicitor for Riddle and his gang, and had been working for him for over fifteen years, his steely blue eyes roved over the teenager more than once, trying to gauge a weak spot, as they always did whenever he was in the courtroom.

“Professor Severus Snape informed Scotland Yard that you went to Wartsmoth Academy for Gifted Students on the thirty-first of July of this year in order to discuss whether or not you’d gotten into physics class for your Upper Sixth Form terms, and whether or not he could discuss the topics with you. Is this correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Harry replied, knowing full well that he technically wasn’t lying here, but he would have to tread very carefully in future.

Rosier looked slightly annoyed, but knew when it was time to move on. “As soon as you left your meeting with Professor Snape, tell the court what happened.”

Harry swallowed. “I walked out of the basement of the school via a side door which was left unlocked, and headed directly for the main gates. When I arrived, I was accosted by Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, and Lucius Malfoy. While Mr. Malfoy and the Misters Lestrange held me back, Mrs. Lestrange pressed a cloth to my face and, in doing so, I fell unconscious.”

“And what do you believe was on the cloth, Mr. Potter?” Rosier asked.

“I don’t believe, sir. I know it was chloroform, because we read and studied it in chemistry class that year. We were all familiar with the smell, albeit in smaller doses to prevent the result that Mrs. Lestrange likely wished to implement upon me.”

Rosier nipped at his lips as he began pacing within the recess between Scrimgeour’s table, the table that housed Riddle’s gang, the gallery, the jury pool, the witness stand, and the judge’s podium. “What is the next thing you remember?”

“I woke up in a basement,” Harry said softly. “I didn’t know where I was. I was shackled to the wall, and my wrists were in extreme pain. I was lying on a thin, uncomfortable mattress with a pad and a thin sheet. There was a water leak somewhere, because I could hear it and I could smell the mold.”

“How long were you left down there?”

“There wasn’t a means for me to know, sir,” Harry told him. “There weren’t any windows, nor was there a clock.”

“Best guess then, Mr. Potter.”

“Likely a few days,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t know, sir.”

The next series of questions were completely banal—with Harry answering anything he could remember about the room he was kept in, his treatment from Riddle’s followers, and what he had to eat. He mentioned that Rabastan Lestrange had told him that he would get things based on good behavior, entirely like a rewards system. He mentioned that he read _A Brief History of Time_ by Stephen Hawking while in his basement prison, and that it was the only thing he kept upon his rescue by Rolf Scamander.

“And what were your conversations like with Tom Marvolo Riddle?”

Harry swallowed. “How do you mean, sir?”

“From the beginning, Mr. Potter. What were they like?”

“He... He tried showing friendship towards me,” Harry replied, hunching his shoulders ever so slightly then. “He would bring me pizza and water, and he never ceased in reminding me that he was the one who got all my gifts.”

“What else, Mr. Potter?”

Harry blinked rather owlishly. “Sir?”

“Were you afraid of him?”

Harry affixed Rosier with a dark look. “He’s a convicted mass murderer, sir. I think anyone in their right mind would be.”

“Your Honor,” Scrimgeour said.

“Move it along, Rosier,” Judge Fudge told him.

Rosier sneered at Judge Fudge before turning back to question Harry. “Did my client ever attempt to assault you?”

Harry’s nails dragged along the wool of his suit trousers. “Yes.”

“Explain to me how he did so.”

“He kissed me,” Harry replied, lowering his eyes as he felt his face pale; he couldn’t look at Remus as he answered these questions.

“And how did you respond?”

“I bit his tongue,” he replied, looking up, and saw Scrimgeour nodding at him, and Harry could see the approval in his eyes.

“And then what?”

“I told him not to touch me like that,” Harry told him.

“Weren’t your exact words, ‘Don’t you ever touch me like that again!’, followed by, ‘You can starve me, you can beat me, but you cannot have me, because I belong to someone else!’ before you punched my client in the jaw?”

Harry shifted slightly in his seat. “Yes.”

“Who is it you belong to, Mr. Potter?”

Harry swallowed. “I am now exercising my right to remain silent, as I do not believe that the right answer is any of your business, sir,” he said stoically.

Rosier looked incensed then, wanting to break the calm mask that Harry had established. “My client informed me that you were aroused by him slamming you up against a wall.”

Harry gritted his teeth, trying to stay calm. “Clearly, your client is mistaken, sir.”

“Oh?” Rosier asked him, looking Harry up and down. “Perhaps it is because you like it rough, Mr. Potter, and you like being beaten and smacked around. Perhaps it is the only way that you can rise to the occasion.”

Harry felt his breath coming in a series of shallow pants then, and felt his knees coming into contact with his chest. He could hear Judge Fudge slamming the gavel to his right, as well as Barrister Scrimgeour screaming at Solicitor Rosier’s line of questioning. He felt hot tears coming down his cheeks as he sobbed, remembering the atrocities of what he had gone through at the Dursleys, and soon felt strong arms around him, leading him out of the courtroom. He heard Barrister Scrimgeour speaking to Remus, and then a door shut softly.

“Harry, come on, it’s all right,” Remus said gently.

Harry’s hands removed themselves from his eyes then as he turned and latched himself onto Remus quickly then, sobbing into his shoulder. “I just want it to stop,” he sobbed, not wanting to let him go. “When does it stop, Remus?”

“Everyone is different, Harry,” Remus responded, holding him close and rubbing circles between his shoulder blades.

“But I want it to stop now,” he wailed.

“I know, Harry, I know,” Remus told him gently. “I’m afraid that I could not tell you when all of this will stop.”

Harry swallowed, his sobs slowly turning into hiccups. “But... It will stop, won’t it?”

“I... I don’t rightly know,” his guardian whispered. “There are some people who go into war zones and aren’t the same when they come out of them. You could easily say that living with the Dursleys and being Riddle’s captive were your own war zones.”

Harry bit his lip then, and slowly eased himself backwards. Tears were still coming out of his eyes, and he had to focus on his breathing, but he was doing a bit better. “I know I’m never going to be the person I was, had none of this happened,” he said softly. “But one thing I know I’m capable of is overcoming this.”

Remus smiled, squeezing Harry’s shoulder. “You’re absolutely right.”

“I want to close this chapter of my life, Remus,” he whispered, and straightened up then. “I’m done being the victim.” He elongated his neck and spine then, and stood at his full height. “From now on, I don’t want to be looked on that way. From now on, I want to be seen as a survivor,” he said clearly, before he turned and walked out of the antechamber, Remus behind him, tears in his eyes at how clearly he resembled both parents, as he hastened to follow him.


	11. Eat Your Heart Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But... It will stop, won’t it?”
> 
> “I... I don’t rightly know,” his guardian whispered. “There are some people who go into war zones and aren’t the same when they come out of them. You could easily say that living with the Dursleys and being Riddle’s captive were your own war zones.”
> 
> Harry bit his lip then, and slowly eased himself backwards. Tears were still coming out of his eyes, and he had to focus on his breathing, but he was doing a bit better. “I know I’m never going to be the person I was, had none of this happened,” he said softly. “But one thing I know I’m capable of is overcoming this.”
> 
> Remus smiled, squeezing Harry’s shoulder. “You’re absolutely right.”
> 
> “I want to close this chapter of my life, Remus,” he whispered, and straightened up then. “I’m done being the victim.” He elongated his neck and spine then, and stood at his full height. “From now on, I don’t want to be looked on that way. From now on, I want to be seen as a survivor,” he said clearly, before he turned and walked out of the antechamber, Remus behind him, tears in his eyes at how clearly he resembled both parents, as he hastened to follow him.

Harry had had three therapy sessions with Amelia since he testified in court to discuss his kidnapping, and now the Christmas holidays had begun. Remus had been invited to Kent to stay at Ted and Dromeda’s house for the holidays, as the heads of the Tonks family had wanted their daughter home. Harry had, of course, been given an invitation to the home, but he’d politely declined, instead opting to go to Devon and spend it at the Weasley house.

Bill and Fleur were staying in France, because the Delacour family was known to be quite a persuasive one, and they wanted some more time with their granddaughter. Charlie and Andre were staying in Romania, due to Andre’s football contract extending there, and because Charlie was making wonderful headway on his series of novels. By contrast, Percy and Audrey had taken a spontaneous trip to Fiji, and everyone—minus Harry, Hermione, Molly, and Arthur—was taking bets to see if Audrey would get pregnant over the next couple of weeks. Fred and Lee were at the Weasley home, however, alongside George and Angelina, and were spending quite a lot of time with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Ginny was there, too, of course, as was Dean, and so Molly and Arthur had their work cut out for them, running around and making sure that the younger generation was plenty happy.

On Christmas Eve, Molly and Arthur went into town with the twins and their partners, going for a last bit of shopping, as well as catching up. Ginny was delighted when Dean had surprised her with a sleigh ride, and they went up and down the lanes close by the Weasley residence for hours on end. Harry could hear a combination of laughter from Ginny, along with the bells jingling around the horses’ neck. Harry, for his part, had had a remarkably quiet day, after accidentally walking in on Ron and Hermione snogging, before he’d good-naturedly thrown their winter clothes at them and urged them to take a romantic walk in the snow.

And so, that’s where Harry found himself, sitting in front of the massive fireplace in the sumptuously-decorated Weasley den, the flames keeping his face warm. Andressa was curled up in his lap, asleep, enjoying in his company and the warmth he provided. He was stroking her absentmindedly, as he often did, as he stared into the flames, licking at the pieces of wood, before him, becoming lost in those hazy, heat-driven thoughts as one does whenever you’re in an empty, silent room, with nobody to speak to, and nothing to do other than watch the fire, if you’re not in the mood to pick up a book, or if you know damn well that the telly will be full of Christmas-related specials or films, full of people just being happy.

A lump rose in Harry’s throat then as he fully permitted himself to consider happiness for a moment. Was he happy, at the end of the day? He certainly had a better life than he had eighteen months ago, living in the shadows of his cousin, aunt, and uncle, and what they could do to him. Classes for his second term of the Upper Sixth were just about to end, and he was already dreading the return journey to Surrey from Edinburgh. Ever since Year Nine, his aunt or uncle had deemed him old enough to get a cab home, and, thankfully, Ron or Hermione would provide him with some pound notes so that he could do just that. Upon arrival, he would be kicked upstairs to his bedroom and await further instructions.

Life wasn’t like that anymore, thankfully, now that Remus had guardianship over him. Living with Remus and Dora was a god-send, literally, as he had virtually no restrictions. Provided that he kept his grades up, helped a bit around the house, and was home by his generous curfew time, Harry had practically free-rein. He had to keep in touch with them, obviously, if something came up or if he had decided to change his plans, but Remus and Dora were terribly kind people, who really seemed to love him, so Harry figured he should take it and be grateful, not that he didn’t love them back.

Love. Harry mulled that term over and over again in his mind, attempting to come to terms with the notion that he had fallen head over heels for his sciences professor. He didn’t know if Severus would ever feel the same way about him, or if the man even knew how he felt about him in the first place. Perhaps he had an inkling; Severus was an intelligent man, which was one of the reasons why Harry had fallen for him in the first place. It was also his captivation, snarky remarks, and that seductive voice of his... Truly, though, it all stemmed from the comfort that the man had given him in the wake of learning the truth about what he’d had to contend with outside of Wartsmoth, and now, although the pair hadn’t spoken since Halloween, there seemed to be something lurking in those endless black pools of his eyes, something that Harry was desperate to figure out.

It was the sound of the phone ringing from the kitchen that seemed to startle Harry back into his senses, and he pushed himself to his feet, settling Andressa onto one of the lumpy living room couches. The house was always beautifully and tastefully decorated, and even on the meager income of the family, Molly Weasley always seemed to make it feel like home. Crossing from the living room and into the kitchen, he pulled the phone off from the wall, wondering if Molly or Arthur wanted him to make sure they had particular items for the large dinner the following evening.

“Weasley residence,” he said quietly into the receiver, picking up a Christmas biscuit and shoving it into his mouth.

“Harry.”

Harry dropped the biscuit immediately then, and nearly choked at the sound of the voice on the other end. “Oh...hi.”

“Hello,” Severus said, his voice gentle. “How are you doing?”

Harry slammed his fist into his chest, so as to clear out the crumbs which seemed to want to desperately snake down his throat and into his windpipe. “F... I’m fine.”

“You sound like you’re choking.”

“You just surprised me, is all,” Harry said, feeling himself blushing to his fringe on his forehead, which always seemed to cover the healed-over bullet wound. “I was eating a biscuit just now, and I may have swallowed wrong when I heard your voice...”

“I didn’t mean to upset you...”

“Hearing from you could never upset me, Severus,” Harry replied, feeling his cheeks heating all over again.

“Thank you,” the man replied awkwardly. “How is Devon?”

“Quiet today,” Harry told him. “Bill and Fleur are in France with the baby; Charlie and Andre are in Romania working; Percy and Audrey went on holiday to Fiji.”

“Molly and Arthur aren’t around?”

“In town with the twins, plus Lee and Angelina,” Harry answered. “I think they’re getting some last-minute shopping done.”

“What about the youngest Mr. Weasley? I thought Miss Granger had gone to Devon for the holidays this year...”

“Ron and Hermione went for a walk,” Harry whispered. “I told them to go.”

“And what about Miss Weasley and Mr. Thomas?”

“Sleigh ride. Dean surprised her,” Harry informed him.

“Don’t tell me you’re all alone at the house,” Severus said.

Harry smiled slowly then. “Andressa is here,” he told him, his voice gentle. “Don’t worry. I won’t be alone for long, not with a big family like this.”

“You think you want a big family?”

Harry swallowed then at the intimacy of the question, and turned around so that he could face out the large window, which overlooked the expansive land around the house. The landline’s cord had wrapped itself around his frame and arm as he leaned back against the wall as he contemplated this. “For as long as I can remember,” he said, speaking at last, “I’ve wanted someone in my life to love me for who I truly am. As for children...” He sighed, shrugging ever so slightly. “...I suppose if he and I both wanted them, and if it was the right time, I’d be all for it.”

“You know that all of this is unwise, Harry.”

Harry blinked, watching as snow began to fall outside the window. “What is?”

“Us. All of it.”

Harry sighed into the phone. “I know. Legally speaking, I know.”

“How do you feel?”

“About you? About us?” he asked, knocking his head back so it hit the wall ever so slightly. “I guess I’m wondering if there is an ‘us’...”

“There’s been an ‘us’ from the moment you kissed me, and I kissed you back,” Severus told him, his tone barely above a whisper.

Harry shut his eyes then. “But do you want there to be an ‘us’?”

“I’ve told you this before, Harry. Of course I want it. But there are many factors to consider, at the end of the day, ones that neither of us are prepared for.”

Harry sighed. “I know I’m underage, and that I’m your student. But, less than a year from now, neither of those things will be a problem for us.”

Severus sighed, too. “Until then, I think we should keep a distance from one another.”

Harry felt as if someone had slammed their fist into his guts. “That’s not what I want,” he told him, his voice quiet. “And I don’t think you want it, either.”

“Whether we want it or not is not the question, Harry. It’s about what’s right.”

Harry gripped the phone in his hand to prevent himself from dropping it. “What do you want, Severus?” he whispered.

“What I want is fantasy,” he told him. “I wish I could be younger, or you could be older. Then, none of this would matter, or it would matter, but less.”

“Well, if you really think us keeping our distance is what’s best, then I’ll do it,” Harry told him, not even registering the tears flowing down his cheeks. “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” Severus replied, and would likely have said more, were it not for Harry hanging up the phone.

Harry crossed back into the living room, taking Andressa back into his arms and sitting with her in front of the fireplace. He watched the flames dancing on the wood again, and tried to ignore the fact that he was crying. He listened as Ron and Hermione came back, half an hour later, and stepped on through into the living room, plopping down on either side of him.

“Harry,” Hermione said, taking his hand in hers as Ron stole Andressa from his lap, “are you all right? What’s going on?”

Ron stared at Harry. “Yeah, mate. You’re crying...”

“Nothing,” Harry said quickly, wiping the tears out of his eyes and off of his face. “I’m all right, I promise. Now,” he said, forcing a smile onto his lips, “how was the walk?”

. . . 

Three more therapy sessions with Amelia had come and gone, with Harry letting her know that he thought his relationship with Stephen Silver was over. Amelia had attempted to get more information from Harry, but Harry was non-committal in his responses, letting her know that discussing it was out of the question. Amelia gave up after several tries, and instead talked with Harry about his final term at Wartsmoth, leading up to graduation.

Harry was focusing entirely on preparing for exams every free moment he got, so much so that the entire month of January had passed in the blink of an eye. Hermione, who usually had to try and figure out ways to entice Harry into studying, became concerned for her friend when he didn’t take his head out of his physics textbook for near days. He only took breaks to eat, sleep, and to see to Andressa’s needs, when he wasn’t working, and Ron and Hermione constantly were discussing ways to get him out of his newfound study addiction.

“Harry,” Hermione said, walking up to him tentatively, in the second week of February. “Ron and I were discussing Valentine’s Day, and he wants to take me on a romantic walk and dinner in Dean Village.”

“Sounds great, Hermione,” Harry replied, not looking up from his copy of _Advanced Level Physics_ by Michael Nelkon and Philip Parker.

Hermione pursed her lips. “We were wondering if you wouldn’t mind if we stole Andressa for the evening, and took her around the village.”

Harry nodded, turning the page in the textbook. “Brilliant.”

Hermione let out a sigh, seeing that she wasn’t getting anywhere, and left to go to dinner with Ron, hoping that Harry would follow eventually.

Valentine’s Day arrived, and Harry had finally put his textbook down to make sure that Ron and Hermione had Andressa’s lead, bag of treats, and a couple of bags in case she needed to do her business while on the walk. Andressa seemed keen for the adventure, and she absolutely adored Ron and Hermione, and Harry was pleased that she would be getting some air. Ron had told Harry that he was taking Hermione to The Stockbridge Restaurant, using the money he had earned over the summer, working in Fred and George’s shop in London.

Harry pulled a red sweater on as soon as they’d left, and wandered around the deserted hallways of the school. It was a Saturday, so the older years had likely gone out for the evening or were making themselves scarce, while the vast majority of the younger years seemed to be at home. It was quiet and peaceful throughout Harry’s walk, and it would have stayed that way, were it not for him literally bumping into a sea of black. The apology was automatic, and as Harry raised his eyes to properly put it in use, it froze on his lips as he came face-to-face with Severus, and he promptly moved to back away.

“I... I’ll just...” He moved to one side then, trying to get out of the professors’ way, were it not for the electricity that passed through him then as Severus touched his arm.

“May we speak?”

Harry focused on a portion of the stone wall around them, deliberately not making eye contact with the man. “Of course, sir.”

Severus trailed his fingers along Harry’s arm, wanting the younger man to look at him. “Come with me,” he said, and let him go.

Harry turned slightly then as he heard the retreating footsteps and moved to follow, keeping his eyes on the floor, on his trainers, as they walked down the hallway and then down the steps to the bottom of the school. He hesitated, waiting for the classroom door to open, and only passed through it when he was invited inside. He stood towards the back of the classroom, waiting for Severus to speak, suddenly aware of the cooling temperature around him.

“Look at me, please,” the man whispered.

“No... No reason to,” Harry managed to get out, hating it that his voice shook, and that tears were threatening to spill forth.

“Why not?”

“Because you loved _her_,” Harry replied, his voice broken as he forced the words out. “You loved my mum, and I was stupid to think that you’d ever...”

“Harry, you need to understand something,” Severus said gently, stepping closer, and felt as if a knife had stabbed him somewhere valuable when Harry jerked away from him. “Of course I loved your mother, Harry.”

“I _knew_ it,” Harry said, his voice breaking then. “How could you ever even _look_ at someone like me, because, at the end of the day, I’ll never measure up to someone as amazing, perfect, wonderful, intelligent—” His words were muffled then as Severus yanked him closer, and Harry automatically threw his arms around the man, allowing him access to his mouth, practically melting against him, his body shuddering with sobs.

Severus broke away from Harry’s lips then, and rested his forehead against his, carefully lifting his hand and wiping away Harry’s tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Does that answer your question?”

Harry swallowed and shook his head. “Not... Not really,” he admitted.

“Then, tell me what you’re confused about,” Severus requested.

“Riddle,” he whispered, and Severus reached up, patiently taking care of the tears that still fell from Harry’s eyes. “He said that you loved her; my mum. He said that that’s why you deflected from him, because you were in love with her...”

Severus sighed. “That is what I wanted people to think, yes,” he admitted.

“So, you weren’t...?”

“I wasn’t in love with her, no,” Severus told him, his voice gentle. “I loved her, Harry, very much, but in the way that you care for Miss Granger.”

“She was... She was like your sister?”

“Exactly,” Severus told him, smiling down at Harry—a small smile, but a smile nevertheless. “I was ashamed of who I was, growing up, and I didn’t tell many people. I’d seen what happened to people, who came out, and who had the courage to live their lives the way they wanted to. I didn’t want it to happen to me,” he admitted. “I wanted to live...”

“You wanted to protect yourself,” Harry whispered.

Severus nodded. “I did, yes. And when Riddle found out that I cared for her so much, he sought to take that away from me, because he saw my being gay as a betrayal. He didn’t want us to love anyone else, only him. And, when I found out that he had killed your mother, father, and tried to kill you, all I could think of was making it right. Making it right, in my world, was giving all the information I had about Riddle, his associates, and his future moves to the proper authorities. In exchange, I was given immunity, and Albus gave me a career. I was happy, for a while, and then I heard what your relatives put you through and, Harry, my life was turned upside-down,” he admitted, and Harry stared at him, shocked by his words. “All I could think of was the fact that you were saved that night, in 1981, and now you’re forced to live such an atrocious life. It was as if I’d been existing, but not living; I wanted to live, from the moment I’d been given the opportunity to do so, first by the justice system, and then by Albus. And then, things cleared when you kissed me—I couldn’t explain it, Harry, but everything made sense again.”

“Severus...”

“We... We have to be together,” he whispered.

Harry’s heart soared. “But... You said that...”

“I know what I said,” Severus replied, “and I hate myself for saying it, and I’ll never forgive myself for staying away from you, or for hurting you. I can’t stay away from you, Harry, not anymore. I don’t want to.”

Harry nodded at him. “So, what does this mean?”

“Well, for me, it means that I want you, and, as long as we’re alone, I’m not going to hide it any longer,” Severus replied simply. “Of course, we can’t do much, because, the fact remains, that you’re still my student. However, I suppose words and kisses are tolerated, for now, as long as it’s what you want.”

Harry stood on his toes then, pressing his mouth to Severus’s. “I wanted you since I was fifteen, Severus,” he whispered to him, his voice trembling with emotion. “I told you that I didn’t want anyone else; that’s why I didn’t let Riddle touch me. Riddle couldn’t touch me, because I didn’t belong to him. I belong to you.”

“This isn’t ownership, Harry,” Severus told him. “That’s not...” He shook his head. “I could never treat anyone that way.”

“I just meant that I’m yours, if you’re mine,” Harry said softly.

Severus nodded. “Of course I’m yours,” he whispered.

Harry grinned up at him. “Then, you’re mine,” he replied, pushing himself upwards again so that their lips met, and their mouths parted, and they held the other close as they stood there, tasting one another, in the sciences classroom.

. . .

The end of February arrived and, in less than a week, Riddle, Malfoy Sr., and the three members of the Lestrange family had been found guilty of their crimes against Harry, as well as escaping prison. Three days later, they were sentenced to life imprisonment, with a stipulation that they shouldn’t be released at all. It was bittersweet, knowing that that chapter of his life was over, and Harry found himself better equipped at dividing his time between Severus and studying. Now, however, with Ron’s eighteenth birthday looming over the horizon, that’s pretty much what each evening was spent talking about.

On the final day in February, a Saturday, Harry, Ron and Hermione, Neville and Draco, Dean and Ginny, and Luna were all sitting in the Warthog common area. The fire was crackling in its massive fireplace, and Hermione was casually looking over her copy of _The Great Gatsby_ by F. Scott Fitzgerald, which was the penultimate book that Professor Flitwick had assigned them that year. The following book was to be _Wuthering Heights_ by Emily Brontë, which Hermione had already begun skimming and writing down potential essay prompts for. As Professor Flitwick’s teaching assistant that year, she had to do things like that.

“How have you been feeling, Draco, given the news this week?” Luna asked.

“I should think Harry would be far more important a person to ask that question of,” Draco said softly, no hint of animosity in his tone.

“We’ve discussed it,” Harry told Draco, giving him a small smile. “So much, as a matter of fact, that I’d personally love it if someone else weighed in.”

“Understood,” Draco said, leaning down on Neville’s arm, who promptly encircled him in a loving grasp. “To answer your question, Luna, I’m all right. Lucius was never around much as I was growing up, and apart from the standard set of memories that most children have, plus the multitude of unsavory ones, I find I’m all right.”

“How’s your mother dealing with everything?” Hermione asked, looking up from _The Great Gatsby_, and shooting Ron a dirty look when he hid it from her.

“Mother’s relationship with Lucius was always complicated,” Draco said quietly. “Her parents were pretty wealthy, and Lucius came from money, too. Granddad Cygnus was a member of parliament, and you know that Grandfather Abraxas was a business analyst; I’m set to inherit the company,” he said softly. “Granddad and Grandfather were close friends and rivals over the years, and they thought it would be wonderful to combine the families, so to speak. Lucius had just graduated from St. John’s College and Mother had just finished her education at Collège Champittet, in Switzerland. Mother had been accepted into Selwyn College, so, suffice it to say, both had plans when they sprung it on them over the summer, and neither of them were best pleased.”

“Was it because they grew up together?” Neville asked.

Draco turned to his boyfriend and grinned. “I grew up with you, Nev.”

Neville smirked. “Well, we spent several years apart.”

“Because I was afraid to be myself,” Draco said gently. “I’m just happy that I can be me, and you can be you, and we can be together.”

“Before I get uncomfortable,” Ron cut in, and Hermione and Ginny glared at him, “why didn’t your parents want to get engaged?”

“Honestly, Ronald, they were very young, but certainly old enough to decide for themselves in the grand scheme of things,” Ginny grumbled.

“Easy,” Dean said gently, and began rubbing her shoulders, and Ginny, like a cat, immediately melted into the touch.

“Well, I just meant that, down the line, marriage wouldn’t be such a bad idea,” Ron said, and turned to look at Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “If that’s questions of whether or not I’ll marry you one day, Ronald, you know I will,” she said.

Ron grinned, leaning in and kissing her.

“But _not_ until after university happens and we’ve _both_ got careers,” she said quickly.

“Aw, ‘Mione,” Ron whined.

“Fine, fine. But I refuse to marry you while we’re still at Wartsmoth,” she said, and put out her hand to him. “Deal?”

Ron took ahold of her hand and promptly pulled her to him, kissing her. “Now it’s a deal,” he said, and Hermione found herself grinning at him.

“Back to Draco’s story,” Luna said.

“Right,” Draco said, settling back into Neville’s arms. “Well, Mother was, straightaway, panicking about the union.”

“Why?” Harry found himself asking.

“Because Lucius was seeing someone,” Draco said quietly.

“Oh, and the Malfoy family didn’t approve?” Ron guessed.

“They wouldn’t have, had they known about it,” Draco said emphatically. “Lucius’s partner wasn’t a woman.”

Hermione’s brows raised then. “Oh. I see.”

“It was all very hush-hush, as it was the 1970’s,” Draco went on. “So, life went on, and they agreed to a long engagement. Lucius graduated from St. John’s and went onto Oxford University, while Mother finished at Selwyn and went onto Cambridge. They stayed engaged, not living together, while Lucius and his lover seemed to have all the time in the world. Then, my grandfather suddenly became ill—he had a stroke, you see—and knew that his days were numbered. He begged Lucius and Mother to marry, and so they did. Mother became pregnant almost immediately, and, once that happened, Lucius broke it off with his lover. My mother gave birth to me, and then my grandfather died, almost as if he held on for the sole purpose of seeing the Malfoy name continue.”

“I’ve always said elderly folk are scary—oi!” Ron shouted as both Hermione and Ginny elbowed him in the ribs.

Draco smirked at the exchange before he went on. “One thing that Lucius and Mother had in common was a head for business, and Mother raised the ranks within the Malfoy company, and now she’s running it for me, until I get my degree.” He hesitated for a moment. “It didn’t take long until after I was born for Lucius to go back to his lover. Mother didn’t care; she was doing wonders for the company, and we were constantly in the black. She didn’t mind as long as Lucius kept it quiet, and didn’t mind when she took lovers of her own. Lucius didn’t mind, as long as the same rule applied to her, and they were in agreement.”

“What happened next?” Harry wanted to know.

“Lucius and his lover had a row,” Draco went on, all happiness gone. “I was four or five, I can’t really remember. He came home one night, completely pissed, and made his way into my bedroom instead of one of the master suites. Malfoy Estate had two of them, because, historically, the husband and wife didn’t share a room, which was made all the easier, as Lucius and my mother hadn’t been intimate since they’d conceived me...”

“It’s all right,” Neville whispered, obviously having heard the tale before.

“Lucius stumbled into my bedroom,” Draco said softly. “It was the largest one off the corridor of my mother’s room; it was arranged this way so as my mother would be the one to hear me cry in the middle of the night, and not disturb my father... Lucius came into my room, put a hand over my mouth, and told me to be quiet, and it would all be over soon...”

Silently, Harry scooped Andressa upwards and got to his feet, crossing over to Draco and putting her gently into his lap. “It’s all right,” he told him. “It might help.”

Draco looked touched, nodding his thanks to Harry as Harry returned to his place. “Anyhow,” he went on, stroking Andressa’s ears, “this continued for years, and I just couldn’t bring myself to say anything, until I did. And then, I thought everyone was safe when he got locked up for it, and then we got word that he’d taken you...”

Harry smiled. “I’m all right,” he assured him.

“It all got wrecked when I saw him and his lover at the estate,” Draco muttered.

Dean raised his eyebrows. “You saw them together?”

“Lucius was trying something,” Draco said with a nod. “I could tell that _he_ didn’t want it to happen, and he was just talking to him. They’d been friends for years, so it wasn’t like it was odd to see him at the estate.”

“When was this?” Ginny asked him.

“The summer before Year Eleven,” Draco said. “I saw the way that Lucius was acting towards his lover, and I just... I couldn’t...”

“You saw yourself,” Harry said quietly, and Draco raised his eyes to his. “No matter how fleeting a moment it was, it was there. You saw yourself, and that was what it took to set yourself free, wasn’t it?”

Draco nodded. “Exactly.”

“Did you know the bloke?” Ron asked.

“Yes,” Draco said darkly. “That was the mad thing about it.”

“Mad how?” Hermione wanted to know.

“He’s my godfather, of all things,” Draco said, as astounded as he likely was when he encountered his own father with his lover.

Luna shook her head. “But, isn’t your godfather...?”

“Snape, yeah,” Draco said with a nod, and Harry felt something slamming through him then, as he felt Ron and Hermione’s eyes latch onto him.

“It’s amazing,” Harry said quietly, trying to keep the sadness from his voice, “when you think you know a person so well...”

Draco nodded vigorously at Harry’s statement. “Agreed,” he said.

. . . 

Harry had avoided the confrontation long enough; Ron’s birthday had come and gone, and then another week had passed. It was becoming categorically more and more difficult to claim to Severus that he was studying. Of course, he had been pleased at first, what with exams coming up soon; however, he was beginning to feel as if Severus would see through the cracks. He knew he couldn’t go on like this, and that he had to go and tell Severus what he knew.

He had selected Saturday for the confrontation itself, for he knew that nobody in their right mind would be seeking out Severus that evening. Luna was on a long-distance call from Rolf, while Draco and Neville had left for the Malfoy Estate for the weekend, and Ron and Hermione, plus Ginny and Dean, had gone to the village for a double date. Harry didn’t even want to begin to consider how awkward an evening it would be as the temperature proceeded to drop around him as he made his way into the school’s basement.

The door to the sciences classroom was slightly open, and, as Harry stepped closer, he could hear Severus’s voice. This was not uncommon, as Severus would dictate to cassette tapes either on lectures for various classes, or instructions on particularly difficult chemistry experiments. They really belonged in a lecture series of some kind, and Harry had always wanted to tell Severus that, but hadn’t. But now, as he stepped closer, he could hear another voice, pairing itself with Severus’s like a fine wine, and his heart lurched as he recognized the familiarity of the serpentine-like tone.

“I miss you,” said the voice.

“We have been over and over this on countless of occasions,” Severus drawled back as Harry looked inside the classroom, seeing Severus speaking into his phone. “I told you that we were through, as I’ve met someone else.”

Harry’s heart pounded in his ears at the statement.

“They will never truly know what you like, Severus,” came the voice of Lucius Malfoy from the speaker of the desk phone. “Only I can please you.”

“Lucius, I’ve told you, it’s done. We’re done,” Severus said, his voice firmer.

“I didn’t have to let you fuck me, Severus, but I did,” Lucius replied, his voice peppered slightly with impatience. “But, may I remind you how many times you were on your knees, begging to take my cock into your mouth?”

Severus made a face. “That’s enough—”

“Oh, no, Severus, it is never enough,” Lucius said quickly. “Are you hard right now? I’ll bet you’re hard, sitting at that desk of yours in that dingy classroom. Tell me, are you stroking your prick beneath it?”

“I am not, Lucius, but my habits became none of your business a long time ago.”

“That’s not what you said that summer at the estate,” Lucius declared. “You said that you couldn’t bear to live without me.”

“That was before all the shit came out about Draco,” Severus growled into the phone. “How could you hurt an innocent child—your own _son_—like that?!”

“Don’t pretend that it didn’t get you off, Severus. Did come seep through your fingers when you imagined me with him?”

“Absolutely not!” Severus shouted, and Harry pulled himself out of there then, slamming his body up against the wall in revulsion.

“Of course it didn’t,” Lucius purred. “Because it made you jealous that Draco could make me feel such a way. You wanted to be the only one I loved.”

“Lucius...”

“Come on, now, Severus,” Lucius went on, his voice cat-like. “I know you want me to say dirty things to you. Remember, like we used to?”

“Lucius, I don’t think...”

“Then, I’ll think for you.”

“Really, I don’t...”

“Now, now, now,” Lucius interrupted. “Don’t go interrupting me left and right, Severus, you know I hate that.”

“Right,” Severus said.

“Now, then, shall we pick up where we left off?” Lucius asked him.

“Lucius...”

Something in Severus’s tone set Harry on edge then, and everything around him truly seemed to cease. There were no sounds—no Severus and Lucius speaking; no noises of the school settling around him as they always seemed to; not even Harry’s own breathing could be detected. As he moved to leave, he knew that resolution and communication were keys to get through his life, but he couldn’t allow himself to do it, not yet. At the end of the day, he was just a boy, a seventeen-year-old boy, who may or may not have been ready for any of this.

. . . 

The argument had been a long time coming—three weeks and three days, to be exact. And when Harry and Severus had finally come together, it was as if a match had been lit, and wildfire naturally ensued. Harry had yelled at Severus for keeping his past relationship with Lucius a secret, while Severus had told him that they both carried secrets. Harry had fired back that that hadn’t been an excuse, and Severus had told him to stop acting like a child. It ended with Harry calling him a coward, again, and leaving the sciences classroom.

And so, there he was, at The White Hart Inn, on the first of April, celebrating Fred and George’s birthday; they were twenty that year, and the sky was the limit when it came to alcohol consumption at the place. The proprietor was all to happy to help his customers drink, and Harry never felt like he needed anything more. He gripped the pint in his hand; he had been nursing it for close to an hour, but his mind retreated backwards, envisioning Lucius out of prison and wrapping himself around Severus, pounding into him, which made Harry tremble with rage. He then grabbed ahold of the glass in front of him, and downing it as fast as he could.

He slammed down the bar, ordering another one, and slapped down a five-pound note, and his glass was immediately refilled. He chugged this one down as well, to the point where his head was spinning just slightly, and got to his feet. He could still walk, and he crossed the bar, where Oliver Wood had been sitting, watching him all night. Oliver Wood had been captain of the football team at Wartsmoth after Charlie’s graduation, and before he’d been in charge of the training program for Scotland Yard, so he was on quite good terms with both Fred and George, and had been for years.

“Hey, Oliver,” Harry said, sitting down next to him.

Oliver smiled at him. “Harry,” he said, looking him over appreciatively. “I see you’ve stayed in shape, despite quitting the team.”

Harry shrugged. “Weight-lifting, mostly. Remus helps quite a bit.”

“Heard he’s your guardian now. That going well?”

Harry nodded. “Hell of a lot better than Surrey,” he joked.

Oliver smiled again. “You doing well generally?”

Harry gave Oliver a lopsided grin. “Better now, especially because I caught you staring at me from the bar,” he replied.

Oliver smirked down at him. “Did you now? You saw that?”

Harry briefly dragged his teeth over his lower lip. “You denying it?”

Oliver shook his head. “No. Not denying it.”

“Good,” Harry replied.

Harry turned around then, Oliver looking over his shoulder, as Fred and George turned on the stereo system in the middle of the pub. Michael Jackson blared on the speakers, _Blood on the Dance Floor_ pumping through them. Harry turned around then and regarded Oliver with raised eyebrows, and Oliver, taking the hint, offered his hand.

“Want to dance?”

“Sure,” Harry replied, taking it.

Everyone seemed to have the same idea then, because Harry and Oliver weren’t the only ones migrating to the center of the bar. Michael Jackson’s words were electrifying, he could sense that now, and his shuddered slightly then as Oliver put his arms around Harry’s waist. Harry laughed then, meeting Oliver’s kind brown eyes, and it got to the point that they were literally grinding against one another, on the dance floor. The crowd was so thick around them that nobody would notice, especially because Fred and George had brought disco lights, which were now the only light source, and were flashing all around the pub.

Oliver really knew how to move, and Harry wasn’t about to complain. He had always found the former football player attractive, and the charisma he’d displayed when Harry tried out for the team his first year had never wavered. They hadn’t spoken much in the wake of Oliver’s graduation from Wartsmoth, but had spoken a lot more lately in the wake of Rolf finding Harry in the basement during his captivity. Since then, Oliver had sent messages through Rolf, just to catch up, but Harry saw Oliver’s true motivation that evening, at The White Hart Inn. Oliver wanted him, and Harry wasn’t about to pass up a chance for some fun, just because he was hurting from Severus’s words, and, no matter how meaningless it would prove to be, he wanted to be distracted.

And then, there it was, the unmistakable scent of chamomile and sandalwood, the smell that was reserved only for Severus, suddenly wafting into his nose. A moment later, a hard hand clapped down on his shoulder, startling him, and Harry whirled around, heart beating in his throat, face flushed from dancing, head spinning from turning around so quickly. Harry’s heart beat faster at the look he gave Oliver, which caused the latter to retreat completely from Harry’s personal space, and Severus laced his hand through Harry’s.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Now.”

Harry allowed himself to be dragged from the pub, not wanting to cause a scene. They stepped outside and into the dark, rainy night, and Harry felt his eyes widen as Severus pulled him down the sidewalk. They came to a black 1996 Audi S8, which Severus promptly moved to unlock, and Harry felt as if it wasn’t the rain that was freezing on his lips.

“Get in.”

Harry scrambled to obey, opening up the passenger door and letting himself inside. He felt the rain falling off of his body and into the car’s interior, but Severus was wet as well, and it didn’t seem to bother him. They drove along the road, back towards Dean Village, and Harry remained silent, feeling the shock give way to anger.

Severus, as if sensing this, pulled off to the side of the road and turned to regard Harry, just outside of the village, on the outskirts of the school grounds. “What?”

“_What_?!” Harry snapped, whipping around to face him, narrowing his eyes. “Is that all you can say, Severus? I should be asking you the same question!”

Severus’s mouth thinned slightly then. “You were drinking, Harry.”

Harry threw up his hands. “So?!” he demanded. “If I’m old enough for you to want me, I’m certainly old enough to have a few!”

“How many did you have?”

“Two,” Harry said, narrowing his eyes. “What’s it to you?”

Severus sighed, running his fingertips along the edge of the steering wheel. “This isn’t how I thought you would act.”

“What did you expect, Severus? I’m a bloody teenager.”

“What’s really bothering you here, Harry?”

Harry huffed, crossing his arms. “Like you don’t know.”

“I thought we had closed this subject.”

“No, _you_ closed the subject!” Harry shot back. “You didn’t want to discuss your past with Mr. Malfoy because it was difficult for _you_. You didn’t think for a minute how it would make me feel, Severus. You didn’t think about me...”

“I’m always thinking about you,” Severus told him. “Why the fuck do you think I came to the pub tonight?!”

“To stake your claim?!” Harry shouted.

Severus gritted his teeth. “I thought we’d established that we were each other’s,” he said, his tone perfectly level. “As I’m sure you know, I don’t appreciate sharing what is mine.”

“Well, neither do I,” Harry told him.

“Harry, I cannot change my past,” Severus said softly.

“I’m not asking you to change it,” Harry told him, his voice shaking. “I’m just asking you to be honest with me about it. If you want us to be together, I can’t have secrets. I need to be able to trust you, Severus.”

“So, that’s it, then? You don’t trust me?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I don’t. I can’t trust you, Severus, especially after I heard about all of this from Draco. I understand that you have a past, and I know that nothing can be done to change that fact. But what I won’t have is someone I care about lying to me and making me think that I’m a child for wanting to know the truth.”

Severus absorbed Harry’s words like a black willow, never commenting outwardly on them, before he turned slowly and turned the car back on. The key turn was swift, and they pulled through the night, past the edge of the school grounds, and towards the staff car park. The tires somehow managed to hold their own, despite the marshy area surrounding the school, and it didn’t take long for their arrival.

The pair of them said nothing to one another and, once they were parked, Harry bolted from the car. He tore through the rain, barely looking where he was going, until he came to an unlocked door of the school. Stepping inside, he tried not to trip as he flew through there, trying to get to the Warthog common area as quickly as he could. Once he arrived, he walked through, before climbing the stairs to his bedroom, and let himself inside. Andressa was at the villa for the weekend, and Remus would be bringing her to campus on Monday.

Harry stripped himself of his wet clothes, and made his way promptly to the shower. The water particles upon him grew warm in the heat of the shower, and he made no sounds throughout. It didn’t take long for him to get clean, and, once he was, he returned to the bedroom and slipped on some pajamas, suddenly realizing that he was trembling. Biting his lower lip as he climbed into bed, he pulled the blankets up towards his chin, before curling up into a fetal position, and giving way to the sobs which wracked at his body, and had no intention of stopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is actually a boarding school in Switzerland called Collège Champittet, which opened its doors in 1903. However, it did not begin admitting girls until 1984, so Narcissa Malfoy, even in a Muggle world, could not have attended this school, as she is slated to have been born in 1955 and would have already had Draco by this time.


	12. Castle on a Cloud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pair of them said nothing to one another and, once they were parked, Harry bolted from the car. He tore through the rain, barely looking where he was going, until he came to an unlocked door of the school. Stepping inside, he tried not to trip as he flew through there, trying to get to the Warthog common area as quickly as he could. Once he arrived, he walked through, before climbing the stairs to his bedroom, and let himself inside. Andressa was at the villa for the weekend, and Remus would be bringing her to campus on Monday.
> 
> Harry stripped himself of his wet clothes, and made his way promptly to the shower. The water particles upon him grew warm in the heat of the shower, and he made no sounds throughout. It didn’t take long for him to get clean, and, once he was, he returned to the bedroom and slipped on some pajamas, suddenly realizing that he was trembling. Biting his lower lip as he climbed into bed, he pulled the blankets up towards his chin, before curling up into a fetal position, and giving way to the sobs which wracked at his body, and had no intention of stopping.

It was the second Monday in April, on a cool, rainy afternoon when classes at Wartsmoth Academy broke for the day. Ron and Hermione rushed ahead to the canteen, to guarantee that they’d get a seat together, while Harry went to check his student mailbox. He trudged down the hallway, seeing the rain falling heavily outside the large windows of the school, as he made his way to the Upper Sixth Form student mailboxes. He took his key out of his pocket and turned it in the brass lock, and the tumbler seemed to give immediately. He left the key in its lock as he pulled open the door, flipping through his mail.

He had a letter from Rufus Scrimgeour, who wrote him once every few weeks since the verdict against Vernon and Petunia had been found guilty. Leading up to sentencing, Rufus informed Harry that he was more than welcome in court that day. Rufus also informed him, in this letter, that he would be willing to provide a reference letter for Harry, when he began his Master’s Program at university. Harry fully intended to thank Rufus for it, but was going to decline; he would ask, instead, for a letter to be written on Hermione’s behalf, as it was Hermione who would be going into law.

Harry pocketed the letter and shredded some junk mail that he’d gotten; Remus had told him in his third year at Wartsmoth that credit card companies got their hands on your information, and would do everything in their power to suck you in. Harry moved to shred the final piece of junk mail, which is when he noticed a rather large brown envelope laid on the bottom surface of his student mailbox. Perplexed, Harry reached in for it, unhooking the back of it, and pulled out the first piece of paper, and his jaw dropped immediately.

It became immediately clear that it was a letter from the admissions department at the University of Edinburgh, and they were writing him to inform him that he had been accepted, and was due to begin classes following his graduation from the Upper Sixth Form. The term he would be starting in would be in September of that same year, and Harry felt his heart thundering in his chest as he shut the door of his student mail box, locking it securely before he made a quick run for it.

Harry dashed back up the hallway, and towards the staircase leading into the school’s basement, almost without thinking. He barely registered the drop in temperature around him as he clutched the envelope to his chest, the formal acceptance letter now back inside, among the brochures, a map of the campus, and contact information for the dean, advisors, and other staff members that Harry would likely need to get in touch with. There would also likely be a list of classes for incoming freshers, and Harry was fully prepared to share all of this with one person, first and foremost, out of everyone—

Harry stopped dead in his tracks before he made it to the first step, and immediately grabbed ahold of the bannister to stop himself from going down. He worried his lower lip in between his teeth then, recalling the last time that he and Severus were alone together. It had happened the night of Fred and George’s twentieth birthday celebration, where Severus had discovered him dancing with Oliver Wood at The White Hart Inn. Harry shook his head, recalling how things had been said on both sides, and at how completely devastated he’d been for the night to end the way it had. Harry swallowed, before he turned back around, leaving the staircase behind him, and walked to the canteen, where he slipped among Ron and Hermione.

“What’s that?” Hermione asked, nodding to the envelope.

Harry silently handed it over to her. “See for yourself.”

Hermione, already having an inkling, opened the envelope carefully as Ron looked over her shoulder, and let out a gasp as she read it. “Oh, Harry! Your first-choice school!”

“Congratulations, mate!” Ron said, reaching across the table and squeezing Harry’s arm.

Harry forced a smile to his lips. “Thanks,” he managed to get out, feeling a penetrative gaze on him then and, as he turned slowly, saw the dark eyes of Severus Snape glued onto him. Harry swallowed then, anxiety rushing through him before he looked away, and tried to answer Hermione’s rapid-fire questions, while all the while, the person whom he really wanted to speak to was on the other side of the room.

. . . 

Harry was in English class one afternoon on the final Tuesday in April; they were discussing _Wuthering Heights_, and Hermione was in her element as she discussed the problematic relationship between Catherine and Heathcliff. Just as she was nearing the middle of her anecdote, Remus suddenly burst into the classroom. Several Warthogs and Moths immediately began whispering to one another as Remus approached Professor Flitwick.

“Filius, forgive the interruption,” Remus said quickly, “but it’s Dora. It’s time.”

Filius let out a surprised squeak and promptly nodded his head. “Of course, Remus. Harry, do gather your things, then.”

Harry promptly shoved his notebook into his bag and his pencil and eraser into its case, before he gathered up everything and got to his feet. “See you guys later,” he said, waving to Ron and Hermione as he slipped from the classroom.

“We’d better hurry,” Remus said, taking Harry’s bag as he tossed his godson’s coat towards him, as the weather was still quite nippy out.

“Where is she?” Harry asked.

“The Royal Infirmary,” Remus told Harry, not returning his bag to him as they rushed down the hallway, towards the main entrance. “She was getting some last-minute shopping done. We’ve quite cleaned out the fridge since Easter,” he joked, and Harry smiled at him. “Luckily for her, she remembered her mobile, today, of all days. I love her, Harry, but she has the propensity to be a bit scatterbrained now and again.”

“Hey, be nice to your wife,” Harry scolded gently, pulling up his hood, and watching Remus do the same to his own coat as they stepped outside the school, trying their best not to slip down the stairs as they made their way to the car park.

Remus rolled his eyes, playfully shoving Harry in the shoulder as they approached his 1990 Volkswagen, and he unlocked the door. Settling down in the driver’s seat, he handed over Harry’s bag and moved to pull out of his reserved parking space. “I had a brief moment to chat with Albus before coming to collect you,” Remus told him carefully. “I’ll bring you back to school later tonight, when Dora falls asleep, and Hermione will be getting you copies of notes and homework assignments, which you will have another day to complete.”

“Thank you, Remus,” Harry said as the school began to disappear behind them. He pulled down his hood and tore off his glasses, gently running his shirt over the lenses so that he could see out of them again. Returning them onto his face, he ran his hands down the rough woolen trousers of his school uniform, and made an effort to adjust his tie. “We have any idea how long she’ll be in labor for?” he asked.

“Could be anytime,” Remus said as they got to the outskirts of Dean Village. “Dromeda and Ted are taking the train down from London as we speak. I’m not sure how long Dromeda was in labor for, but you can usually figure it out how long a woman will be in labor for if you go by her mother.”

Harry smirked, knowing he did not want to be a part of that conversation. He continued to make small talk with Remus as they drove through the village, and along the A700, finally making it to the hospital itself. Remus parked efficiently and they got out of the car, Harry keeping his bag on him in case he had a mind to read ahead in _Wuthering Heights_. Remus approached the main desk and asked for the maternity ward, and they were directed there quickly, before Remus was told which room Dora was in.

“You go on,” Harry told him. “I’ll text Ron and Hermione, let them know we got here safe,” he went on, clutching at the mobile that Remus had bought him for Christmas.

Remus smiled. “All right,” he said, squeezing Harry’s shoulder before following the nurse who had been assigned to collect him.

Harry made himself comfortable in the waiting area, taking off his coat and setting his bag down as he settled into a vacant chair. Picking up his mobile, he sent a quick text to Hermione, knowing that she would actually read it, and pass on the news to Ron. He leaned back into the chair, dozing off for what seemed to be a few moments, before he felt a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes flew open.

“Harry.”

Harry straightened, looking directly at Remus. “Everything okay?”

“He’s here,” Remus said, picking up Harry’s bag again. “Come on. Dora came though it beautifully and she wants you to meet him.”

Harry smiled and grabbed his coat, slipping his mobile into his pocket to check later as they went down the hallway, and into one of the first six rooms. Stepping over the threshold, Harry saw Dora, sitting in the pristine white bed, holding something small, which was wrapped in a blue blanket in her arms. “Hey,” he said, and she looked up at him.

“Oh, Harry,” Dora said, reaching out and clutching his hand. “Come and see him. He’s absolutely beautiful.”

Harry laid his coat down on one of the chairs and stepped forward, taking the bundle when Dora offered it to him, and gazed down at the little boy. “He is beautiful,” he said, and the little thing opened his eyes, staring at him with a captivating expression. “What’s his name?”

“Edward Remus Lupin,” Dora proclaimed.

Harry smiled, offering his finger to the baby, who promptly grabbed it. “You’re just like a little teddy bear, aren’t you? Even cuter, if I do say so myself.”

“Teddy,” Dora whispered. “Of course.”

“We absolutely need to call him ‘Teddy’ now,” Remus said with a chuckle.

Harry felt a warmth flowing through him as Teddy nestled closer, and found that he couldn’t wait to have a child of his own. “Hi, Teddy,” he whispered.

“You’re a natural with him,” Remus said softly.

Dora smiled at the picture. “Ever held a baby before, Harry?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I... I have yet to meet Victoire, Ron’s niece, and I don’t really know anyone else with a baby, so...”

“You saved her sister’s life,” Remus said quietly, and Harry looked up at his godfather. “I’m sure that you’ll be close to her when the time is right.”

Harry smiled, before turning his attention back to Teddy. “Welcome to the world, little brother,” he said softly, and pressed a kiss onto his perfect little head. “I can’t wait to show you how to play football, and how to read, and how to do all these amazing things. Let’s just save the heroics to me, at least for a while, okay?”

“Harry,” Remus said softly, “there is another matter.”

Harry looked up, fighting to keep his attention locked onto Remus, although it is difficult, considering the beautiful bundle in his arms. “Yes?” he asked.

“Remus and I discussed it,” Dora said quietly, and took Remus’s hand. “We would love it if you would consent to being Teddy’s godfather.”

Harry blinked. “You’re serious?”

Remus nodded at his. “Of course. We want it guaranteed that you would take him, should anything happen to either of us.”

Harry smiled at the two of them. “Of course,” he replied. “I’d be honored,” he said, and turned his attention back to his new godson, finally feeling that it was appropriate to be happy.

. . . 

“So, Harry, tell me,” Amelia said gently, writing down his first initial thoughts of the day onto her notepad, “how have things been going generally?”

“Well, Teddy was born yesterday—Remus and Dora’s son,” he told her.

Amelia smiled. “Well, isn’t that nice,” she said.

Harry whipped out his mobile then, and showed her the photo that Remus had snapped of him holding Teddy the night before.

“That’s just adorable,” Amelia said after a moment, returning Harry’s phone to him. “And he’s healthy and everything?”

“The doctor said so,” Harry replied with a nod, pocketing his mobile again. “They’ve named him Edward Remus Lupin, but we’re going to call him ‘Teddy’.”

“It’s a lovely name, Harry. You seem to be a natural with him.”

“They made me his godfather,” Harry said with a small shrug.

“Well, I’m sure you’re quite pleased about that, aren’t you?”

Harry nodded. “I am.”

“Well, that’s lovely.” She finished writing down Harry’s thoughts, and allowed the silence to take over the conversation for a moment. “Of course, I do wish to discuss Vernon and Petunia, as their sentencing begins today. How are you handling that?”

Harry swallowed, dragging his palms over his jeans as he considered that. “Well, I guess I’m happy about it. I want them to go away for a long time, not just for what they did to me, but to keep them safe from other kids.”

“Barrister Scrimgeour has kept you in the loop?”

Harry nodded. “Yes. He’s pleasant.”

“I would know,” Amelia replied with a chuckle. “He’s my cousin, and we grew up together. We attended the Royal Alexandra and Albert School together; he was four years older than I was, but we were always close.”

“I didn’t know he was your cousin,” Harry replied.

Amelia smiled. “That’s why I got you as a client,” she told him gently. “When Rufus agreed to take your case, he mentioned it to me—bare minimum, of course, because he was bound by the confidentiality of the court system. However, he believed that I would be a good fit for you, and so the necessary arrangements were made.”

“That’s awfully kind of him,” Harry replied.

Amelia set down her pen. “He came to live with us—my parents, and my brothers, Bartholomew and Paul—when we were growing up. Barry and Rufus were the same age, and have been best mates since we were children. Rufus had to come and live with us because his mother and father, Narine and Tamish, treated him horribly.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “So, he... He saw me in himself, then?”

Amelia gave Harry a small smile. “I believe he did, yes. Robert and Pauline, my parents, took in Rufus without question, once the truth came out, and they could get custody of him. My father is a barrister himself, and so he taught Barry and Rufus the trade as soon as they were old enough to learn it.”

“And your other brother, Paul?”

“Paul is the baby of the family,” Amelia explained. “He’s an accountant in London, for several businesses. He does well for himself.”

Harry smiled. “He’s very successful. Rufus is.”

Amelia nodded. “He was, yes. He married and had children of his own, and constantly let them know how much they were loved.”

Harry swallowed then, considering that. “I mean... Do you think that that could happen for me, Amelia?”

“Which part, Harry?”

“Well, all of it,” Harry replied. “I mean, for years, I had it ingrained into me that I was worthless, and not... Not a person, I suppose. I know that’s different now, and you’ve helped me a lot to realize that. But the next phase of my life...”

“You’re feeling anxious about it?”

Harry sighed. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“Your acceptance into the University of Edinburgh is a wonderful first step, Harry. I know you mentioned that you were interested in children’s oncology as a degree, and now you’ll have all the time in the world to explore that. They have advisors on campus for the very purpose of helping discover who you are. You have no obligation to figure it out immediately, and that’s what university is there for—to help you define yourself, without restrictions.”

Harry slowly smiled then. “I know what I want to do,” he said softly.

Amelia nodded. “We’re not talking about professionally, are we, Harry?”

He sighed. “No, we’re not.”

“Does this have to do with Stephen?” she asked.

Harry nodded at her. “Yes, I think it does.”

“Well, you’ve plenty of time to figure that out, too,” she told him gently. “I know you’ll make the right decision, because you’re a young man now, and you’re on a good path. I strongly advise you to communicate with Stephen, if it’s him you want to be with, let him know what you’re feeling, even if you think it’s not what he wants to hear.”

“Thank you, Amelia,” Harry said softly.

Amelia smiled at him. “Just doing my job, Harry.”

. . . 

It was Saturday when Harry pulled his phone out of his pocket, and raised his eyebrows at the number. Shaking his head, he opened up the device and placed it on his ear. “Hello?” he asked into the speaker.

“Harry, it’s Rufus,” said the voice.

“Oh, hi, Rufus,” Harry said, relieved that the man was getting in touch. “I know that it was sentencing day yesterday...”

“So sorry I couldn’t get back to you sooner. Court ran longer than expected,” Rufus explained, and Harry could hear the annoyance behind his tone.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Harry told him.

“No matter,” Rufus said with a light chuckle. “I’m just calling to inform you that Vernon and Petunia’s sentencing went very well.”

Harry pushed himself up to his feet; it was an automatic gesture, knowing that he would run to find someone to tell the news to as soon as he got it. “Let me hear it.”

“Twenty to life, for both of them,” Rufus told him.

Harry very nearly screamed with happiness, but suddenly remembered that Teddy was asleep in the nursery, so he settled for pumping his fist in the air. “That’s fantastic, Rufus!”

“Well, I’ll let you go and celebrate,” he said.

“I had a session with Amelia earlier this week,” Harry said quickly then, not wanting the man to hang up just yet.

“Oh, yes?”

“Yes. She told me...about her childhood. Both of yours.”

“Ah, yes. How I came to live with her?”

“She didn’t go into details,” Harry told Rufus quickly. “Just that you saw me in you, and that your home life was... Less-than-savory.”

Rufus guffawed on the other side of the phone. “That’s putting it lightly!” he said. “Well, it is over now. I’m happy in my life, with my wife, and our three beautiful children. All I know is, it wouldn’t have been possible without love and compassion in my formative years. I’m just glad that I helped you get out in time, too.”

Harry nodded. “So am I, Rufus. So am I.” Harry let Rufus go a few moments later, shoving his mobile into his pocket and running into the kitchen, where Remus was sitting, and Dora was getting lunch ready—tomato soup and cheese toasties. “That was Rufus on the phone!” he declared excitedly.

“Oh, how did that go?” Dora asked as she fried up the sandwiches.

Remus sighed. “Please tell me that they’re not taking you away from us...”

“I’d like to see them try,” Harry said with a chortle. “Rufus said that they were both sentenced to life with a minimum of twenty years for everything.”

“That’s wonderful news!” Remus cried out, launching to his feet and embracing Harry.

Harry heard Teddy scream from the next room, and stopped Remus and Dora. “You relax, and you focus on lunch,” he told them gently, “I’ve got him.” Harry left the kitchen then, and made his way down the hallway and into the nursery. “Hey, Teddy bear,” he said, stepping into the room and smiling down at his godson, and gently lifting him up and into his arms. “Well, you certainly _don’t _need a changing. You just looking for some love?” he said, walking around the room with a little bounce in his step. “Oh, I’m right, aren’t I?” he went on, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “It’s all right, Teddy bear. Harry’s here.” Harry successfully managed to calm Teddy down and brought him into the kitchen, where Dora had plated up their lunches and set up the kitchen nook to eat in.

“He all right?” Remus asked, as Dora stepped forward, gently taking him from Harry.

“I think so,” Harry replied, sliding into the booth beside Remus. “Just think that he wanted a little love and attention.”

“We don’t do anything by halves in this family,” Dora joked.

Remus shook his head. “Never,” he said, gazing fondly at his wife and son.

“Just glad that we can give him all the love he deserves,” Harry said softly. “So few have that luck, and here he is, born into a family who gives it so freely. Would that we all could be that lucky,” he whispered.

. . .

May faded with the clouds and rain, and soon a balmy June began in Edinburgh, with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Draco, Dean, and the rest of the Upper Sixth Form preparing for their final examinations. Harry wasn’t worried about them as he had been in the past, as he had been studying round the clock with Hermione, determined that his final exam scores would impress the University of Edinburgh. He had always done reasonably well on the exams themselves, but his grades hadn’t been anything special, until he began living with Remus, and he could actually focus on school and not his next beating.

It was Draco’s birthday next, and he was determined to throw a lavish affair at The Last Drop, which had been a site of executions back in the day. Neville and Hermione helped Draco in the planning and organizing of the affair, and Draco was content to discuss pricing with the various vendors who wanted a piece of the action. Money was certainly no object, and although she couldn’t come down due to work obligations, Narcissa Malfoy was determined that her son’s eighteenth birthday was everything he ever wanted. Draco also spoke to his mother at length on his mobile, letting her know that he understood her reasons for missing the big day, but promising that the hired photographers would document the event accordingly, and that their work would be sent directly to her.

The day of Draco’s birthday arrived, and Draco thought that the stars had literally aligned, because it had fallen on a Friday that year, giving them time to leave campus, have a good time, and then return back with plenty of time to rest before classes were due to resume on Monday. It was a lovely experience, being chauffeured to the venue in the stretch limo that Draco had hired for the occasion, and, as they drove down the street of Dean Village and towards the chosen location, Harry could see just how happy Draco was.

There was no animosity in his former enemy’s expression or body language; in fact, as he sat there, curled into Neville’s side, he looked utterly content. Usually, whenever Harry associated contentment with Draco, it was when he would get his own way, or have an advantage in any given situation. Now, all the negative thoughts towards Draco were gone, and had been sorted out to be placed firmly upon Lucius Malfoy, for all the atrocities he had put his son though over the years.

“No way!” Draco crowed from his corner of the limo, not even bothering to straighten up, but his eyes did all the work for him in terms of excitement.

“What is it, Draco?” Ginny asked, from where she sat in another corner, Dean’s arms wrapped around her.

“Six Brunton Place!” he cried out.

Ron’s red brows furrowed. “Not following.”

“I must admit, neither am I,” Luna said softly, and Rolf, visiting from Scotland Yard for the weekend, pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I know what it is,” Hermione put in with a smile, from where she sat, her head resting on Ron’s shoulder. “It’s a rather exclusive hotel close by The Last Drop.”

“What about it, love?” Neville asked, toying with Draco’s hair.

“Mother’s got us all rooms there!” Draco said with a grin. “We can head straight over, after we’re done at The Last Drop, and return to Wartsmoth after breakfast.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “She’s got rooms...for _all_ of us? Really?”

“Yes, really!” Draco said. “I’ll be rooming with Neville, Ron with Hermione, Ginny with Dean, Luna and Rolf, and you, Harry, get a room to yourself!”

Harry swallowed. “And... And your mum knows that you’re with us?”

“Not a Moth among us,” Ron put in.

“Exactly,” Harry replied.

Draco smiled. “Mother didn’t go to Wartsmoth, remember. And Mother’s my mother. She doesn’t care who I’m friends with—just that they’re nice people.”

“That’s very generous of her, Draco,” Hermione told him with a smile. “Please, thank her for me, and for all of us.”

“Thanks, mate!” Dean called.

Draco nodded, his fingers working furiously on the buttons on his mobile. “Will do!” he said with a smile to everyone.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Draco, Dean, Ginny, Luna, and Rolf all arrived at The Last Drop on schedule, with the rest of the invited students shouting, “Happy Birthday, Draco!” as soon as they stepped inside. Harry recognized Pansy and Blaise in the disco lights, plus Anthony and Susan, and Zacharias Smith, standing close to Anthony. Others he recognized were Crabbe and Goyle, Hannah Abbott, Ernie Macmillan, Lavender who stood with Seamus, Parvati and Padma Patil, Terry Boot, Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode, and Theodore Nott. Others were scattered about the pub, but Harry couldn’t rightly place him, but he felt a bit better about that, given that it was Draco’s party, not his.

_C’est la Vie_ by B*Witched played on the DJ’s turntable, and Harry watched with a grin as Draco and Neville charged onto the dancefloor, Ron and Hermione, Ginny and Dean, Luna and Rolf, Anthony and Susan, and Pansy and Blaise just behind them. Harry smirked as Theodore Nott got Daphne Greengrass to dance with him, and she kissed him as they walked there together, and Harry came to the conclusion that they’d paired up. Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan seemed to be a couple as well as they moved to join the couples, and Lavender and Seamus quickly made themselves known on the dancefloor as well. The biggest surprise of the night, to Harry, at least, was Parvati and Padma Patil pairing up with Crabbe and Goyle, as well as Terry Boot and Millicent Bulstrode.

Harry made his way over to the bar in the wake of all the pair-ups, and advanced upon the bar, which had been fully stocked by Narcissa Malfoy. “Scotch on the rocks, please,” he said to the bartender, who promptly moved to do Harry’s bidding. Harry pulled himself up onto the barstool and began nursing his drink.

“Any good?”

Harry turned and regarded Zacharias Smith, and gave him a nod. “Yeah. Great.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

Zacharias gave Harry a tentative smile before plonking himself into the barstool next to him. “I’ll have what he’s having.” He watched them prepare the drink, and thanked the bartender once he had it, and sipped it lightly, as Harry was doing. “Does it ever get any easier?”

“What?”

Zacharias sighed. “Watching someone you care about,” he said, turning towards the dancefloor where Anthony and Susan were dancing merrily, “do _that_ with someone that’s not you.”

Harry’s lips pulled themselves into a thin line as he thought it over. “No,” he admitted, shaking his head as he downed the rest of his drink, and motioned for another. “I don’t think it does, Zach, no.”

Zacharias turned to face Harry then, smiling at him. “My mum used to call me that.”

Harry blinked, contemplative as he watched the young man before him finish his drink and call for another. “Used to?”

“Died when I was eight, still in primary,” he told him, clearing his throat, likely to quell the emotions that burst through him.

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Dad’s there, so that helps,” he said, downing another scotch.

“What happened to your mum, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Car crash,” Zacharias told Harry bitterly. “The other driver didn’t see her; driving one of those massive lorries, he was. Just...” He slammed his palm down onto the bar then, and Harry barely shuddered at the impact. “...then she was gone.”

“Where were you?”

“School,” Zacharias said. “Mum always liked to do the shopping on Fridays, before she came and got me, because she had half-days on Fridays, and had the weekends off.”

“What’d she do?”

“She was a nurse,” Zacharias explained. “That’s how she met Dad. He’s a heart surgeon at Bedford Trust.”

Harry nodded. “So, what brings you to Scotland?”

“The whole Smith family went to Wartsmoth,” Zacharias said softly. “Dad only moved up to England because of the job, and that’s how he met Mum.”

“Where did you go beforehand?”

“Great Ouse Primary Academy,” he replied. “Don’t remember much of it after the middle of Year Four, because of Mum, you know.”

Harry nodded, vaguely aware that both he and Zacharias were now midway through their third scotches. “Well, maybe it doesn’t always have to be that way.”

“What way?”

“Being unhappy all the time. Besides, we graduate from here in just a few weeks. What are you doing after graduation?”

“Cambridge, like Dad. I’ve got in already,” Zacharias said with a shrug. “Wants me to go into surgery, just like he did.”

“And what do you want?”

“Oh, no, I want to be a surgeon. He thinks the field of surgery will be my choice. Think I’ll go for brain, but I’m still undecided.”

“That’s what university is all about,” Harry said, remembering Amelia’s words. “It’s about finding out what you truly want. Try thinking about the future, and what you want most from it, Zach, and then go from there.”

“I want to be happy,” he said softly. “Not just professionally, but personally as well.”

Harry nodded. “Okay, then. Start with that.”

Zacharias swallowed then, lowering his finished scotch and staring at Harry. It didn’t take him long to lock eyes with him, and, as he slowly inched forwards, said softly, “I really just want to be happy,” and leaned in completely.

Harry didn’t move, but finally jerked away when Zacharias was inches from his face. “I... I’m sorry,” he said, knowing that the bar was pre-paid, and ran out into the night. His heart was pumping into his veins as he darted for the limo, and knocked on the window. “Am I allowed to borrow you for twenty minutes?”

The limo driver shrugged. “Mrs. Malfoy paid me for the whole night, and I’m stuck out here until Mr. Draco comes back out. Wherever you want to go, I’ll take you.”

Harry grinned, slightly unsteady on his feet. “Thanks,” he said, wrenching open the back door and clambering inside. “Back to Wartsmoth, please.”

The driver shrugged again. “You got it.”

Harry felt his teeth chattering slightly as he routinely tapped his fingers on his knees, which bounced in his nervousness, watching as the night drifted around the limo as they drove. Once they passed through the gates of the school and drove up to it, Harry fished a fifty-pound note from his pocket. “Thanks a lot!”

The man looked surprised. “No problem,” he said, friendlier this time. “Hope missing out on Mr. Draco’s party is worth it.”

“So worth it,” Harry told him, but didn’t elaborate further as he launched himself out of the car, and dashed towards the main doors. He let himself in, and ran down the hallway, towards the basement stairs, before he flew down them. His breath caught in his throat then as he stood outside the door, but, quite suddenly, found himself pounding upon it, and, when it opened, he nearly toppled into the room.

“For god’s sake, Potter,” Severus said, and hauled him upwards. “What is the meaning of this? I thought you were at the pub...”

“Screw the pub!” Harry shouted. “I want you!”

Severus cleared his throat uncomfortably then, and managed to reach around, still holding onto Harry’s body, and close the door behind him. “Come on. Let’s get you some water...”

“No... No water,” Harry said, shuffling behind Severus and proceeding to paw at him. “Don’t want no water...”

“The correct grammar is, ‘_I_ don’t want _any_ water’, Potter,” Severus said, his tone slightly impatient as he took him through to his private quarters, and put him down on the couch. “Sit there.” He moved into the kitchen, judging by the boys’—young man’s—slurred words and otherwise grabby behavior that he was intoxicated. Shaking his head, he filled a cup with water from the fridges’ filtration system, and grabbed him two aspirin before returning to Harry’s side. “Here, take these and drink this down,” he told him. “Trust me—your body and head will thank you in the morning.”

Harry mumbled something unintelligible under his breath before he popped the pain medication into his mouth and drank about half the glass. “Severus...”

“What?”

Harry blinked his green eyes upwards at his professor. “Do you like me?”

“I hardly see why my personal opinion of you is relevant.”

Harry dragged his tongue over his lip, and Severus inwardly cursed his cock for responding to the gesture. “It’s just...”

“What?”

“You _said_ you wanted me...”

Severus sighed, not knowing how drunk Harry was and, therefore, unaware at how much he would remember in the morning. “I did say that, yes.”

Harry sighed, lolling his head on the back portion of Severus’s couch, and Severus darted forward to take the glass of water, and Harry let out a small moan as their hands touched. “You mean everything to me, you know,” he whimpered as Severus set the glass onto the table in between the couch and armchair.

Severus sighed. “All right, Harry.”

“No, I really mean it, Severus,” Harry said, looking back up at Severus as his eyes flashed a passionate green. He sighed. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand that you feel things very strongly, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of, when it comes to that.”

“You see it as a sign of weakness,” Harry muttered bitterly, drawing his knees upwards towards his chest. “I’m not weak, you know.”

Severus swallowed. “I know you’re not weak, Harry. And I don’t view your ability to show emotions as weakness. That’s ludicrous.”

“Then stop pushing me away,” Harry begged, the tears coming down his face now. “Just... Don’t do it anymore, please.”

“Harry, listen. You couldn’t possibly want me. I’m old enough to be your father, and furthermore...”

“Shut it with the whole, ‘I’m your professor’ and ‘This is wrong’ bullshit, Severus. I don’t want to hear it anymore. At the end of the month, neither of those things will be true.”

“You’re still underage until the end of July, Harry,” Severus said gently. “Although the Board of Governors would come after me for the former, the law could come after me for the latter. Until you are eighteen, I cannot...”

“But you _want_ me,” Harry said desperately, reaching out and palming Severus’s cock, and the latter automatically stiffened at Harry’s ardor. “I can feel it. You want me.”

“Harry...”

“Please, please,” Harry begged.

Severus shook his head. “Not only for those two reasons I mentioned, Harry, but also because of your state of mind at present.”

Harry made a face. “What state of mind?”

“You’re drunk, Harry,” Severus said firmly, taking ahold of Harry’s wrist and managing to drag his hand away from him. He sighed, shaking his head. “Take off your shoes and get comfortable,” he told him, turning around and walking down the hallway towards the linen closet, where he found a spare pillow and blanket. “You need your rest. I expect you to resume your invigorating study sessions with Miss Granger tomorrow.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Harry said softly, taking the offered pillow from Severus and smashing it into the shape he wanted, before curling around it.

“Hmph,” Severus said, shaking out the blanket and tucking it around Harry.

Harry yawned and put his glasses onto the table, beside the water glass. “You really don’t need to be jealous,” he said quietly. “Only want you.”

Severus swallowed. “All right, Harry.”

Harry yawned again, shutting his eyes. “We really could’ve been something, Severus, because you _do_ mean everything to me. I don’t know why you just had to throw it all away...” He trailed off then, and, upon realizing that Harry was asleep, Severus switched off the light of the living room and retreated into his bedroom.

. . . 

Harry let out a soft moan as he felt the silvery light of dawn threatening to encroach on his closed eyes, and popped them open. His head wasn’t pounding, surprisingly, and he rolled his shoulders, stretching them out. Looking around, he remembered where he was, and he let out a groan, putting his face into his hands. Shaking his head, he shoved the quilt out of the way and folded it, before returning the pillow to its previous shape.

Next, he made a grab for his glasses and put them on, before taking ahold of his trainers and slipping them on as well. He got to his feet then, his head rushing slightly, and made a note to go to the schools’ matron, Poppy Pomfrey, and get something for it. He sighed, dragging a hand through his unkempt hair, thinking that a shower was in order, after getting some more sleep, in his own bed this time.

Crossing over towards the door, he looked down the hallway, and saw that the door at the very end of it was closed. He stepped forward softly, knowing instinctively what this room was, and wanting more than anything to go in and talk to Severus, now that he was no longer drunk. He bit down hard on his bottom lip to prevent the sigh at the events of the previous evening from escaping his lips. He placed his palm onto the wood of the door, and blinked back tears, knowing that Severus was somewhere on the other side of that wood.

“I love you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, before he turned and walked down the hallway again. He went back into the sciences classroom and trekked through it, letting himself out of there and into the cool hallway. The sun had already burned through the silver dawn, streaking it with gold as he walked, the sun creating patterns onto the stone floor. He looked out the window then, finding that it was the same one that Severus had found him at, all those months ago, and wondered, in that moment, if he was just as unsure of the future then as he was at that very moment.


	13. Bare Your Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crossing over towards the door, he looked down the hallway, and saw that the door at the very end of it was closed. He stepped forward softly, knowing instinctively what this room was, and wanting more than anything to go in and talk to Severus, now that he was no longer drunk. He bit down hard on his bottom lip to prevent the sigh at the events of the previous evening from escaping his lips. He placed his palm onto the wood of the door, and blinked back tears, knowing that Severus was somewhere on the other side of that wood.
> 
> “I love you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, before he turned and walked down the hallway again. He went back into the sciences classroom and trekked through it, letting himself out of there and into the cool hallway. The sun had already burned through the silver dawn, streaking it with gold as he walked, the sun creating patterns onto the stone floor. He looked out the window then, finding that it was the same one that Severus had found him at, all those months ago, and wondered, in that moment, if he was just as unsure of the future then as he was at that very moment.

Harry set down his pencil, having just completed his English final exam, an essay, for Professor Flitwick, and felt a sense of relief wash over him. It was his final exam for the Upper Sixth Form, meaning that, now, all he had to do was go through the customary end-of-year classes, plus gather his exam results, and attend the graduation ceremony and after-party. Harry pushed away from his desk, gathering up his pencils and erasers into his pouch, and stacked his paperwork together. He placed the pencil pouch into his bag and crossed the room, making his way to the diminutive English professor, and handed over his essay.

“Very good, Mr. Potter,” Professor Flitwick squeaked with a large smile. He stapled the papers together and nodded his head, placing it on the completed pile, who now housed essays by Hermione, Draco, Neville, Pansy, and Dean, among others. “You’re free to go.”

Harry nodded. “Thank you, professor,” he said, turning around. He gave a wave to Ron and Seamus as he left the room, before he wandered out into the hallway, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Harry knew that Draco and Neville had already taken off for Wiltshire for the weekend, and wouldn’t return to the Wartsmoth campus until Monday, while Hermione was waiting for Ron to be done so that they themselves could go to Devon. Harry mulled over his next move, feeling the weight of his mobile in his pocket. He knew he could call Dora and ask her to come and fetch him with little Teddy, but he didn’t want to bother her. He could also wait for Ron to be finished—which could take a bit of time—and then return to the villa with Remus.

Harry walked slowly, considering things then; science final exams were finished, as they took place in the first portion of the day. He knew that he needed to see Severus, as they hadn’t spoken, really spoken, since Harry had barged in, completely pissed off his arse, unannounced, into his private rooms. Shaking his head at his behavior, Harry wandered down to the basement of the school and slowly approached the classroom door, tentatively opened it, and made his way inside.

“Severus?” he called, his voice not that loud.

There were footsteps on the inside of the door which led to the professor’s inner rooms, and Harry stood his ground as the door opened, and the man himself was standing there. Severus shut the door behind him and stepped forward, his dark eyes filled with something that Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Harry.”

Harry sighed. “I’ve come to apologize.”

Severus blinked. “Apologize? Whatever for?”

“Look, I had no right to come here that night, completely pissed. I just... I needed to see you, and I knew I needed to keep myself safe,” he told him quietly. “I’d made some really bad decisions that night, not just by drinking over my limit, but by getting too close to someone else, another student, but I couldn’t do that to you, Severus, not you...”

Severus’s mouth thinned. “Which student?”

“Zacharias Smith,” Harry replied.

Severus’s jaw clenched. “I could see to it that he fails his physics exam, and then he’d have to take it over the summer, if he’s got any true desire to attend Cambridge.”

Harry shook his head. “No, don’t do that,” he said softly. “Wires were crossed and signals were missed, and he’s apologized since then, and I know he means it.” Harry approached Severus then, a small smile on his face. “When are you going to get it?”

“Get what?”

“Get that it’s you,” Harry replied, reaching out and taking Severus’s hand. “It’s you. It’s always been you, and it’s always going to be you.”

Severus lowered his eyes down at their clasped hands. “You’ve sure got a funny way of showing it, Harry.”

Harry smirked. “One could say the same for you, Severus.”

Severus smirked. “Hmm.” He dragged the pad of his thumb along Harry’s knuckles, pondering the situation for a moment. “I just wonder...”

“What?”

“Why you wouldn’t deliberately attempt to seek out someone younger, more your own age, not to mention more attractive...”

Harry stepped forward then, closing the distance between them and desperately seeking out Severus’s mouth. Once he found it, he kissed him as deeply as he could, hoping to convey so much in a kiss. “I think you’re gorgeous,” he whispered against Severus’s lips. “And, in case it slipped your mind, I don’t want or need anyone younger. I want you.”

Severus squeezed Harry’s hand before turning it lose, and moved to hold the young man’s face in his hands. “But why?”

Harry smiled, leaning in then and resting his head on Severus’s chest. “Because you made me feel safe, in a way that Remus could not,” he replied. “I was convinced that all the scars I got would deter potential suitors from me. I think it helped that neither of us intended for the other to be a suitor, which is why all of this caught us off-guard potentially.” He sighed. “I used to think of Wartsmoth as a salvation from my relatives, but, then, after I realized I needed you, it became a determent. While I am a student here, you are obliged to look, but not touch, which quickly managed to drive me insane. I wanted you to touch me, so much, and I hate myself for running away from it...”

“That day, at Leith,” Severus whispered, gently tracing patterns on Harry’s back, “why did you run away from me?”

Harry swallowed. “Really? You want to know?”

“Of course I do, Harry, but only if you’re prepared to tell me.”

“I thought my demons were too much,” Harry confessed. “I... I didn’t... I didn’t want you to be saddled with someone who was as broken as I am.”

“You’re not broken, Harry...”

“A part of me is broken, Severus,” Harry whispered, “and a part of me will always be broken. I don’t think it’s the same for everyone, but that’s how it is for me. I was shattered that day that Dudley first violated my trust in the most heinous way, and then again when Vernon did so as well. You became my escape, Severus, and that escape route developed into something I couldn’t possibly imagine—compassion and understanding. You told me once that you were hurt like I was hurt...”

“My father,” Severus whispered, pressing a soft kiss onto the crown of Harry’s head. “He started beating me from the time I was two or three, and the sexual abuse started when I was around five or six...”

Harry shuddered, holding Severus close. “Is he still living?”

“No.”

“Good,” Harry said softly. “Last thing I’d want is to hire a solicitor to represent me in a murder trial. I vowed never to sink down to Riddle’s level, but I could’ve been persuaded, after what you’ve just told me happened to you.”

“I don’t want you going to prison for me, Harry,” Severus told him gently. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, and you shouldn’t be...”

Harry pulled back then, locking eyes with Severus. “If you’re going to launch into a lecture about why I shouldn’t be tied to you because of our age difference, you’ve got another thing coming, professor,” he said fiercely. “My final exams are over, and graduation is just around the corner now. If you don’t want me, then you’re going to have to say so, because my being your student soon won’t be an obstacle for us.”

“I want you,” Severus said, tightening his grip upon Harry, “of course I want you. I’m going to want you for...”

Harry smiled then, shaking his head, and stood on his toes, capturing Severus’s mouth with his and felt his toes curl as his tongue plundered into his mouth. Harry melted into the man’s embrace and Severus held him up, the notion that they were drowning in one another a great one as they held on tight. “No more pushing each other away,” Harry whispered, tilting his head up so that Severus could press kisses to his jawline.

“Never,” Severus whispered back.

. . . 

Harry and Severus had engaged in much snogging over the next near fortnight, so much so that, by the time the Upper Sixth Form, plus the teacher chaperones, had arrived at The Witchery by the Castle, the pair found it difficult to keep their hands off one another. Harry sat with Ron and Hermione, plus Draco and Neville, and looked around at the luxurious place that Wartsmoth Academy had booked for the top ten students with the highest marks. As such, that year he, Ron, Hermione, Draco, Neville, Dean, Anthony, Susan, Seamus, Pansy, and Blaise had been selected that year to attend. Dean and Seamus were at another table, while Anthony and Susan, plus Pansy and Blaise, were each having romantic dinners for two across the dining room.

When it came time to order their meals, Harry ordered the raw quail’s egg, plus the Himalayan salt dry-aged ribeye steak, and the Witchery dark chocolate tart for his pudding. From across the room at the professor’s table, which housed Severus, and Professor McGonagall, he saw them ordering shortly thereafter. Harry watched as Severus deftly ordered roast vine tomato and sweet cicely soup, the baked aubergine, and the cinder toffee ice cream for dessert. Every food that Severus ordered sounded delicious as his voice flowed around them, even though Harry did not care for aubergine, and he wasn’t a huge fan of coffee.

“You couldn’t make it any more obvious, mate.”

Harry turned at the sound of Draco’s voice, and felt his dark brows knitting together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, scarhead, there’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Draco went on, but the smile on his fact told Harry that he didn’t use the nickname maliciously. “I mean, you are mad for him, aren’t you, Harry? Severus, I mean.”

Harry flushed then, and made an effort to lift his glass of champagne and sip it, in an effort to distract himself. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“We’re not students for much longer, Harry,” Neville spoke up.

Harry nearly choked on his drink. “I don’t know what that has to do with—”

“He’s saying that you should go for it with Professor Snape, mate,” Ron said, his mouth full of the homemade bread that had already been brought to the table.

“But you should be careful,” Hermione said quickly. “At least until graduation happens. Then, the Board of Governors won’t go after him.”

“You do want him, Harry? Don’t you?”

Harry turned back to Draco and hunched his shoulders. “I do want him, but...”

“Then, what’s stopping you? Other than the board,” Neville said quickly.

Harry bit down hard on his lower lip. “It’s... It’s Lucius.”

“Lucius?!” Draco demanded, narrowing his eyes. “What the bloody hell does that tosser have to do with anything?!”

Harry leaned his head down onto his palm. “I... I heard Severus speaking to him, just after you told me that they were over,” he said softly.

Draco sighed. “Did you bring it up with him?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I couldn’t. I was too busy apologizing for nearly snogging Smith at your party, and for showing up at his place, pissed off my arse...”

“You almost snogged Smith?!” Ron demanded, small bits of bread falling out of his mouth as it dropped in shock.

Hermione covered her face with her hand. “Honestly, Ronald...”

“So, that’s why you didn’t stay in the room my mother booked for you?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “And I suppose she didn’t tell you about my personal letter of apology, as well as the money I sent her accounting for the room?”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “You did that?”

Harry nodded. “Yes. She sent the money back, but claimed she loved the note.”

Draco smirked. “She would have,” he confirmed with a slight nod. “But, back to what you were saying earlier, Harry, about Severus speaking to Lucius...”

“It was on his office phone,” Harry replied. “He... Lucius brought up the past, and Severus seemed to be...”

“What?” Draco asked.

“I don’t know... Receptive,” he said, whispering the word as if it was an expletive. “It just... It broke me in two, Draco. And I didn’t know how to bring it up, because things were really good after I apologized to him...”

Draco nibbled at his lower lip then, thinking it over as he peered over at Severus, who was in deep conversation with Professor McGonagall. “I know why he was speaking to Lucius,” came his voice at last.

Immediately, Harry straightened in his chair. “You do?! What—?!”

“He’s an informant,” Draco whispered, his voice barely audible as Neville, Ron, Hermione, and Harry all inched closer to catch the words tumbling from his lips. “He’s been one since 1981, when he turned on Riddle. In fact, he served Riddle until 1995, on paper, until my aunt Bellatrix murdered my cousin, Sirius Black, that summer. Then, he got out of informing on him and moved onto other people.”

Harry was about to question Draco further when his quail’s egg arrived, and he spread his napkin in his lap and lifted his fork. “So, what, he’s like MI6 or something?”

Draco smirked. “Ask him yourself. I only know what Lucius told me, when it was presumed that Severus was still for Riddle.”

“But... What if after all this, Severus doesn’t...?”

“Be brave,” Draco whispered back. “You never know unless you try.”

Harry forced himself to eat his egg, his entrée, and his pudding, before he got to his feet. He said goodnight to everyone and left the dining room, and wandered around the hotel. Harry’s booked room was a suite called The Inner Sanctum, which he had selected from the catalogue when it was revealed that he was to make the top-ten marks list at the end of term. He hesitated before climbing the stairs and, when he looked over his shoulder, saw that Severus was poised, watching him.

Harry felt a small smile encroaching on his lips then. _Be brave_, he thought to himself. He crossed the room towards Severus then and, after finding themselves alone, stood on his toes and leaned towards his ear. “Come into my room. Spend the night with me,” he whispered.

“Harry...”

“Please,” Harry whispered to him. “I no longer have any formal assignments to be marked by you, and now that exams are over, I’m merely your student in name only. I’m tired of the world telling me what I can and can’t have, and I want you. Please...”

Severus lifted his head then, looking around and, once positive that they were alone, nodded. “I see your point.”

Harry grinned up at Severus then, grabbing ahold of his arm and pulling him towards the staircase and down the corridor beyond. Once they were really alone, he fished the key to his suite out of his pocket and opened the door, pulling Severus in after him, and locking it behind the two of them. His heart thundered in his chest then, and launched himself at Severus, pressing kiss after kiss to his lips.

“What do you want, Harry?” Severus whispered.

Harry pulled back slightly then, so as Severus could look into his eyes, and never doubt for a moment that he wanted him. “You,” he declared. “I want you.”

Severus smiled, leaning down and nipping at Harry’s earlobe. “Of that, I have no doubt. But, I will need specifics, Harry...”

Harry bit down hard on his lower lip, trying to formulate a coherent thoughts as Severus stuck out his tongue and licked the sensitive area behind his ear. “I... I want...”

“Use your words, Harry,” Severus encouraged him, gently placing his hands on Harry’s hips and anchoring the teen towards him.

“Oh, my god,” Harry groaned as his erection met Severus’s between their trousers. “I... I want you inside me,” he whispered.

Severus stilled then, waiting for Harry to resume looking at him. “You’re sure?”

“Please,” Harry begged, pushing his hips further into Severus. “Please, I need you. I can’t wait anymore, please...”

Severus smiled, tilting Harry’s chin up. “I can’t wait anymore either,” he confessed then, and pressed his mouth to Harry’s, a groan escaping his lips when Harry’s lips parted beneath his and he wrapped his arms around his neck.

“Please... Need you,” Harry whimpered in his arms.

Severus swallowed. “I need you, too,” he whispered back. Gently, he guided Harry’s legs around his waist, and carried him into the inner room of the younger man’s suite, where a four-poster bed and a roaring fire awaited them. Severus painstakingly lowered Harry onto the duvet, and smirked as the teen cupped at his arousal, as Severus himself slowly began undressing.

“Don’t be long,” Harry whined.

“I don’t intend to be,” Severus told him. Slowly, Severus took off his dinner jacket, and tossed it across the room, and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Wait, let me,” Harry said, suddenly springing to his knees before him.

Severus smiled at the consideration and eagerness of the young teen, his soon-to-be lover, and permitted him to remove his tie and dress shirt effortlessly. As he did so, Severus unzipped his trousers and managed to pull them down his legs, before toeing off his dress shoes and socks. “You, my dear,” he said as Harry finally got his shirt off, “look a tad overdressed.”

Harry flushed slightly then, a small smile on his face as he slowly dragged his palms down and along his professor’s bare, muscled chest. “Maybe you should help me out,” he said with a slight shrug.

Severus smirked. “I think that can be arranged.” He leaned down then, helping Harry shrug out of his own dinner jacket, and then proceeded to unbutton his shirt.

“Not fast enough,” Harry said, and yanked away from him, before he undressed himself quickly until he was only in his boxers. “I...”

“It’s all right, Harry,” Severus assured him. “If you’re not ready...”

Harry shook his head. “No, it’s not that.”

Severus smiled, slowly dragging his hands up and down Harry’s arms to calm him. “All right, then. What is it?”

“I know about your informant status,” he whispered, not meeting Severus’s eye. “Draco told me about it...”

Severus tilted his chin up. “What brought this on?”

“I... I heard you speaking to Lucius Malfoy, in your office, a few weeks ago,” Harry confessed as he hunched his shoulders. “I was...”

“What, Harry?”

“I was scared that you would go back to him,” Harry confessed.

“Harry, I could never willingly go back to Lucius, and not only because of the many horrors subjected Draco to over the years,” Severus told him. “There’s another reason behind my unwillingness to return to him.”

Harry swallowed. “There is?”

“Of course there is,” Severus replied, running his fingers through Harry’s hair. “You’re the reason, Harry. I couldn’t go back to Lucius because of you.”

Harry wetted his lips then, and shuddered. “There is another reason why I hesitated...about,” he said, and gestured to his boxers.

Severus nodded. “Tell me.”

“I... I want you to take them off...”

“I can do that,” Severus said, reaching out.

Harry grabbed ahold of his wrist then, stopping him. “Not that way.” He lowered his eyes then and flushed a deep crimson. “I want you to take them off...with your teeth.”

Severus felt himself stiffening then at Harry’s request, and all the blood seemed to rush to his cock in that very moment. “That, I can do.” He gently laid Harry down in the center of the bed before he climbed on top of him, and leaned down, taking ahold of the waistband of Harry’s boxers betwixt his teeth, and slowly pulled them down, until they were down and around his ankles, whereupon Severus unloosed them from Harry’s legs entirely and knelt before him then, waiting for his next cue.

“Come here,” Harry whispered, opening his arms to Severus.

Severus pushed himself upwards then, leaning over Harry and caressing him as much as he could stand, before he cupped his face and kissed him. “We don’t have to...”

“I _want_ this, Severus,” Harry said, arching upwards so that Severus could feel Harry’s excitement on his leg. “Don’t you want me?”

“You’ve no idea,” Severus replied. He pulled himself away from Harry for a moment, and made a grab for his trousers, fishing in one of the pockets for something before he came out with a small tube and showed it to Harry. “Do you know what this is?”

Harry shook his head. “Not from the looks of it.”

“It’s lubricant,” Severus explained, trying his best not to be angry at his attackers not using such a thing. “It’s so I can stretch you before I’m inside; I’ll also put some on myself, so that it’ll go better.”

Harry pushed himself upwards, so that he was propped by his elbows while still halfway on his back as he considered his lover’s words for a moment. “It... It will still hurt, though, won’t it?”

Severus smiled. “Well, I’ll certainly try to make it as easy for you as possible. My goal is not to hurt you, Harry, but to elicit pleasure from you.”

“And vice-versa, I hope?” Harry asked with a cheeky grin.

Severus nodded. “Oh, very much so, Harry.” He slowly opened the bottle of lubricant and spread some on his fingers, warming it up before he gently lifted Harry’s erect cock, which elicited a moan from the teen, and gently rubbed some at the furl of his entrance with the soft pads of his fingers. “Too much?”

“No,” Harry confirmed, shaking his head as he felt the raw desire to open up to Severus, both physically and emotionally, surging through his veins. “More...”

Severus smiled down at Harry, and teased the entrance just a bit more before he slowly pushed one of his fingers inside of Harry. “Is that all right?”

Harry let out a moan as Severus’s finger found its way inside him. “I like it,” he whimpered, his green eyes meeting Severus’s black ones. “Please...”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Don’t stop,” he begged.

“I won’t,” Severus vowed, pushing himself closer, so that he could kiss Harry while he began to stretch him. “I don’t want to be anywhere else...”

“Prove it,” Harry said, angling his hips slightly so that Severus’s finger went deeper inside him, and let out a mewl when Severus brushed something. “What...?”

“That’s your prostate,” Severus informed him gently, moving so that his lips were at Harry’s ear, and he gently trailed his tongue along its shell. “Imagine how that will feel, once I get my cock into that perfect little arse of yours...”

“Oh, my god Severus,” Harry groaned, wrapping his arms around Severus’s neck as Severus moved his finger around from inside him, this way and that. “More...please, more...”

Severus smiled down at the picture beneath him and, at Harry’s word, slowly put a second finger inside of him. “Is that all right?”

“Fuck, yes,” Harry moaned, pushing himself upwards further still, so that he was chest to chest with Severus. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted...”

Severus found that he could not stop smiling, and lowered himself down, gently blowing his hot breath onto Harry’s nipples, so much so that the teen keened beneath him. Gently, he stuck out his tongue and swiped it against the surface of the first nipple, and Harry let out a noise of awed shock, and dug his fingers into Severus’s back. Taking that as a note of encouragement, Severus wrapped his lips around the nipple completely then, and proceeded to suck.

“Oh, god, Severus, more,” Harry whimpered.

Severus smiled, moving slowly to the second nipple, before adding a bit more lubricant to Harry’s entrance and adding a third finger. “Still all right?”

“Completely,” Harry said, his hands leaving Severus’s back so that they could proceed to fist into his hair. “God...”

“Everything all right, Harry?” Severus whispered, letting go of Harry’s right nipple, and his hot breath gently blowing over it.

“I want you to fuck me,” Harry cried out then, his voice shaking. “I don’t want to even remember my own name...”

“Very well,” Severus replied, still stimulating Harry with his fingers as he drew back, and put a generous amount of lubricant onto his fully erect member. “The moment I get inside you, Harry, I’ll need you to pull towards me, all right? We’ll do it together. It’ll help you with the pain or burning feeling you may feel.”

Harry nodded. “Just, please, get inside me,” came his whispered reply.

“With pleasure,” Severus said softly. Gently, he parted the boys’ legs and took ahold of Harry’s hips, and gently teased his entrance with the head of his erect cock. “Are you ready for me, Harry?” he whispered to him.

“Yes,” Harry said, bracing himself against Severus’s shoulder. “Yes, please. I just want you. I’m only ever going to want you. Just get inside me...” He said, knowing full well that he was babbling on, but he hardly cared, for all he wanted was Severus, and he knew that he had been working towards this for nearly two years, and he couldn’t believe that the moment had finally come at last.

Severus shuddered then at the meaning behind Harry’s words, before he gently sheathed himself inside of Harry, and Harry immediately stiffened. “It’s all right,” Severus whispered to him. “It’s just like we talked about, remember?”

Harry nodded, a jerky movement. “Y-yes...”

“Grab my shoulders and pull yourself towards me as I push myself deeper inside you. Bear down on me, Harry,” Severus instructed.

Harry let out a shuddering breath, but did as Severus said. “Hold me,” he whispered, his pupils dilating with desire.

“Always,” Severus replied, wrapping his arms around Harry, and pulling him closer, as he went more deeply into him. “All right?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Harry replied, nodding his head against Severus’s shoulder. The pain and the burning sensation had gone, and slowly he wrapped his legs around Severus’s torso. “It’s all right now, Severus... Fuck me,” he whispered.

Severus smiled then, placing a kiss on Harry’s lips. He then braced himself against the bed with one hand, while keeping a generous grip upon Harry’s hip with another. Pushing himself as deep into the teen as he could, he found himself spasming at the sounds he evoked from him. He kissed Harry again, and they pushed and pulled together, Harry screaming Severus’s name, and Severus moaning Harry’s into his ear. It had never been like this, in all the years that Severus had been sharing his bed; it had never been as it was, in this very moment, with Harry.

“Harder, harder,” Harry was begging him now, feeling and hearing Severus’s balls smacking into him, and loving every moment of it. “More... Severus, please...”

Severus pulled one of Harry’s legs upwards, so that it rested between his neck and shoulder and pumped inside him furiously. The change in position worked wonders, as Severus was able to get a better angle, and Harry was positively screaming his praises. “Is this all right?” he somehow managed to ask, not even knowing why he was asking.

“Yes, yes! More!” Harry cried out.

Severus pounded his cock as hard as he could into Harry’s arse, finding himself groaning as Harry yelled his name out over and over again. “How... How close...?” He managed to get out, his eyes locking completely onto Harry.

“C-close,” Harry whispered back through gritted teeth.

Without hesitation, Severus promptly took hold of Harry’s prick and pulled at it slowly, brushing his knuckles against his balls, and smiled to himself as Harry jerked beneath him. He continued with his ministrations inside of Harry, while all the while continuing to pay attention to the fully erect cock in his hand. He looked up as something hitched in Harry’s throat then, and watched as the green eyes widened.

“Now...now,” Harry moaned.

Severus pumped Harry as hard as he could without hurting him, and let out a gasp as Harry’s seed spilled between the two of them, mostly onto their stomachs. In that moment, Severus let out a grunt as Harry’s arse clamped down hard around his member, causing him to spill directly into Harry.

“Severus!” Harry screamed, the aftershocks of his own orgasm not leaving him yet, and he was, quite likely, overwhelmed with the sensation of Severus spilling into him.

“Harry... Fuck, Harry,” Severus moaned, moving to take himself out of the teen and to fall down beside him. It only took him a moment for his head to clear, and, when it did, he got to his feet, feeling Harry’s fingers deftly on his back.

“Wait, you’re not...”

Severus turned around then, gazing at a now-debauched Harry, and cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not what?” he asked.

Harry let his hand fall then, and shook his head. “Nothing...”

Severus crossed over to the bathroom and made quick work of tidying himself, before he picked up a soft towel from the small linen closet and wet it with warm water in the basin before he returned to the bedroom. He smiled as Harry looked shocked at his behavior, and stepped forward, gently taking the towel and using it to clean him off. “You look surprised for some reason,” he remarked softly then.

Harry swallowed. “No, I...”

“Harry.”

Harry sighed. “I just... I thought you were leaving, is all.”

Severus made a confused expression and tossed the used towel into the laundry hamper, before he climbed back onto the bed and took Harry by the hand. “Why would you automatically think that I would do such a thing?”

“It’s not that I think so little of you, Severus, rather that I think so little of myself,” he confessed, his shoulders hunching ever so slightly then. “For so long, I went without a scrap of love or affection, other than my friends. I didn’t even get a proper hug until I was twelve, when I spent my first Christmas in Devon. Molly was so welcoming towards me, and, for the first time, I truly felt what it was like to have a mother. She never treated me any differently from Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, or Ginny, and it was so easy to fall into the family that it only seemed natural for me to do so. Molly and Arthur attempted to arrange to have me for the entire summer, but Vernon and Petunia put their feet down—they wanted their little slave to have the house looking pristine, and to beat and abuse whenever something didn’t go right, either with the chores or in their own unfulfilling lives...”

“Harry...”

“Please, I’m not finished,” Harry said, and Severus nodded at him. “I think I hated you and Draco, initially, because I saw Vernon in you, and Dudley in Draco. As for Petunia, that was Professor Umbridge,” he said with an animated shudder. “It was easy to hate you, because you truly seemed to hate me, and although I know the reasons why, and I can apologize until I’m dead about what my father and his friends did to you, please know this—we are not our fathers, and I’m quite sure you can agree with that statement.”

Severus nodded. “I can.” He sighed, smoothing out Harry’s unruly hair, finding that it had a certain charm to it. “Why are you telling me all this, Harry?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Severus shook his head. “Not to me, I’m afraid.”

Harry laughed then, and leaned forward, placing his forehead against Severus’s. “You really are a git, you know that?” he joked.

Severus rolled his eyes. “Please, Harry...”

“I love you,” Harry said softly, and Severus pulled back, black meeting green. “And I’m not just saying that because you gave me the best night of my life. I think I’ve loved you for a long time, Severus, quite a long time. In all honesty, it’s becoming more and more difficult to remember a time when I didn’t love you. And I don’t want to stop loving you, Severus, I really don’t. Which is why I’m so pleased that graduation is just around the corner, because I would hate for anything to happen with...”

Severus leaned forward then, yanking Harry against him and seeking out his lips, which he soon found, the sudden urge to kiss Harry again off the charts. “You idiotic, simpleton, wonderful, amazing, boy,” he whispered against Harry’s lips. “I love you, too.”

Harry gasped then, and launched himself at Severus, so that they were lying on the bed, with Harry sprawled across his soon-to-be-ex professor’s chest. “You love me?”

“I love you,” Severus said again with a smile.

“I love you,” Harry whispered back, leaning down to kiss him again.

. . . 

Five days later, everyone with a significant connection to the Upper Sixth Form class at Wartsmoth Academy arrived on campus for the graduation ceremony. Since Hermione had received the highest marks that term, she had been painstakingly spent the last five days scouring the library for wisdom and information on speeches. As such, she had been given the opportunity to say something at the ceremony itself, in addition to Headmaster Dumbledore, their special guest speaker, Naomi Mitchison, and Professor McGonagall, as Deputy Headmistress.

Harry managed to get on his specially tailored suit on correctly, and then put on his black graduation robes; the men at the school wore black while the ladies wore white. He placed his graduation cap appropriately on his head, as well as the customary ribbon around his shoulders, and, finally, the golden necklace that proclaimed him within the top ten students to achieve the highest marks. Harry smiled to himself, making sure that the collar of the robes covered the bite that Severus had given him the night before, when he had snuck down to the school basement for some rough embracing.

Pushing the previous evening from his mind, Harry moved to leave the dorm rooms for the last time; he was the last one to get ready, which was par for the course, but he didn’t mind it very much, he found. All of his possessions had been packed and brought to the villa over the prior weekend, and so he only had a small overnight bag with him. Once the ceremony was over, he was going to head back, and Severus, with the agreement of Remus and Dora, would be coming with him.

Harry finally left the dormitory and made his way downstairs, towards the grounds, where the graduation ceremonies were held each year. He had a few minutes to greet Remus, Dora, Teddy, Ted, Dromeda, Molly, Arthur, Fred, George, Angelina, Lee, as well as Amelia and her partner, Rosmerta, before making his way to the first two rows, which were reserved for the top ten students. That day, Harry was sitting in between Pansy Parkinson and Dean, and he was pleased that he could at least have a conversation with someone before the ceremony started.

“Welcome, everyone,” Headmaster Dumbledore said, from where he stood at his podium, beneath a royal-looking purple canopy etched in gold, “to this graduation ceremony.”

As he continued, Harry noticed Hermione sitting in one of the offered chairs on the stage, along with Professor McGonagall, Severus, Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, and Naomi Mitchison, who was a hundred-years-old and had to be kept an eye on. The rest of the professors, not including Remus, sat in a single line along one side of the students.

“And now, it gives me great pleasure to introduce the student with the top marks this term, as well as for the graduating class, Miss Hermione Granger,” Headmaster Dumbledore concluded, and promptly began applauding Hermione, and patted her shoulder good-naturedly when it was her turn to speak.

“Good afternoon,” Hermione said with a smile, finding her parents in the crowd, then the Weasley family, and, finally, Harry and Ron, “and welcome to the ceremony. Ceremony actually comes from the Latin word _caerimonia_; I don’t know about everyone else, but I think that proves that, in Latin, everything sounded more beautiful.” Hermione beamed as the crowd laughed. “I didn’t know I was considered a gifted student until I was eleven-years-old, when they gave me an exam to take before the summer holidays began. Apparently, my professors saw something in me that I didn’t yet see, because I wanted what so many people crave—to be normal. However, it was not to be, and I am so pleased for it every single day, because there is so much that being a student Wartsmoth Academy has taught me. I think the most valuable thing, to me, personally, has been the friendships I’ve made long the way. My parents will attest to the fact that I came home each day from primary, crying, because I didn’t have one friend, because they all said I ‘knew too much’. It should’ve been made abundantly clear to me, right then, that there was something different about me, but I was so set on being normal that not much else mattered. It was a rather daunting experience on my first day here, being surrounded by other young people who were just that—people. People who were just like me academically, and, at the end of it, I was really scared, because almost all of them knew about the school, because their families had gone here generation after generation. But, when the time came, I made a great amount of friends, and they taught me that to strive for normalcy is to strive for perfection, which, as I’m sure you’re all aware of, doesn’t exist. Once I got over the hurdle of believing that perfection wasn’t something I wanted to achieve, did I finally realize what I wanted out of life. Not only did I want to be a success professionally, but I wanted it on a personal level as well. And while not all my memories from my school years are perfect, because, as I’ve said, perfection doesn’t exist, I can honestly say that I’ve learned more about myself, about my friends, about my family, about my professors, and the world itself to know what needs to be made of it. And as I stand before all of you today, I want you all to know that you don’t need perfection. You don’t even need normalcy. In fact, all that you need, at the end of the day, is an excellent support system in place that will be there for you when you trip and fall flat on your face. Because, in those moments, you need to laugh and pick yourself up, always knowing that those people will be there for you, either to give you a helping hand or to bend an ear and make sure that you’re doing all right. Don’t always take life too seriously, because, if you do, you’ll forget how to laugh, which is the most important thing in life—to laugh. To be happy, and to have an amazing life experience, which you cannot do without taking a risk and getting out of your comfort zone like I did, all those years ago. Thank you, and congratulations class of 1998,” Hermione said with a final smile, and everyone cheered and applauded. “And now, I would like to introduce you to Baroness Naomi Mitchison, the brilliant biologist, novelist, and poet,” she said, and turned around, gently helping the woman to her feet, and soft words were exchanged between the two of them before Baroness Mitchison stepped forward.

“‘Travel light, my child, as the Wanderer travels light, and his love will be with you’,” Baroness Mitchison began in a reverent tone of voice.

Headmaster Dumbledore stepped forward once the baroness had finished speaking, and moved to return her to her chair. “And now, the graduating class,” he said with a smile. “Hannah Abbott,” he began, and Hannah, with her beautiful, long, blonde hair got up onto the stage and accepted her General Certificate of Secondary Education. “Terry Boot.”

It was much after the rest of the students’ names had been called and the GCSEs had been handed out that Harry tore through the crowd. He just caught a glimpse of the ceremonial black robes belonging to Severus slipping into the school, and rushed forward, running through the doors after the man.

“Severus!” he called.

Severus turned around then with a smile. “I would’ve thought you would have run along with Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger to celebrate. Or, perhaps, gone to the villa.”

Harry shook his head. “That can wait.” He bit his lip then and, when he saw Severus still standing there, presumably waiting for him, he dashed forward, letting out a gasp when Severus caught him up into his arms and kissed him. “I’m officially not your student anymore,” he told him with a smile.

Severus cocked an eyebrow. “Yes. I see that.”

“So,” he asked as Severus slowly lowered him to the ground, making sure to allow him to run his body along his lovers’, “does this mean what I think it does?”

“And what would that be, Harry?”

Harry smiled up at the man. “No more hiding?”

Severus considered that for a moment before he smiled at him. “No more hiding,” he assured him then, leaning down and kissing him.

“God, I love you,” Harry breathed.

Severus grinned. “I love you,” he replied, kissing him again. He hesitated for a moment, before he pulled back and pulled him along behind him.

Harry laughed. “Trying to get me into your rooms, sir?”

“That can come later,” Severus tossed over his shoulder, steering Harry towards the very side entrance he’d left from that day, and pulled him in the direction of the car park. Severus led Harry over to where his own car was and, parked next to it, was a sleek, black, BMW 3 Series which made Harry’s eyes pop.

“Looking for an upgrade?” Harry asked.

Severus grinned. “Not me,” he said, reaching into his pockets and tossing Harry a set of keys with a wink. “It’s yours.”

“But, I...” Harry stammered.

“Think of it as a graduation present,” Severus told him gently.

Harry laughed and shook his head as he fingered the keys. “I don’t know what to say...”

“Say, ‘Thank you’?” Severus asked, shrugging.

Harry grinned, launching himself back into Severus’s arms and kissing him until they were both breathless and could hardly do anything for themselves. “Well, this means I won’t have to take a cab or the bus to uni,” he said with a laugh.

“Exactly,” Severus replied, pulling Harry close. “Do you like it?”

“I _like_ the car,” Harry said, angling himself slightly so that he was staring upwards at Severus with a mischievous look in his eyes, “but I _love_ you... And I refuse not to be taken back to your private quarters until we destroy that bed of yours.”

Severus grinned, his black eyes darkening even further. “That can be arranged,” he said, and yanked Harry at full-force towards him, angling his mouth onto his, before he pulled him back into the school and towards the basement.

. . .

Harry awoke on his eighteenth birthday alone in his bed at the villa, as Severus claimed to have a rather large present for him, and would be spending the better part of the day getting it ready to be presented at the party later that afternoon. Rolling his eyes in annoyance that his now-official boyfriend wouldn’t be spending the night with him, he pushed off the blankets and kissed Andressa good morning, before crossing his bedroom towards his dresser. He pulled out a fresh pair of boxers before making his way into the attached bathroom, before he shut and locked the door behind him and turned on the shower.

Once finished, he put on khaki shorts and a polo shirt, reserving his formal attire for the party later that day. He tried brushing his hair, but soon realized it was a lost cause as he lifted Andressa into his arms and moved to take her downstairs for breakfast. He rolled his eyes at the chocolate chip pancakes and fresh whipped cream that Dora had made for him, but thanked her for the gesture as he got into his typical seat at the breakfast nook.

“Hear from Severus yet?” Remus asked, flipping through the morning paper.

Harry grumbled under his breath, setting Andressa down by his feet and thanking Dora for the glass of milk as he cut into his pancakes quickly. “Apart from a customary, mundane birthday wish, no,” he replied.

Dora tutted, placing Teddy in his high chair, who had, much to their surprise, been fairly advanced in his various goals. “Be nice, Harry.”

“I know, I know,” he muttered. “But he was supposed to spend the night...”

“You’re lucky that Severus isn’t a woman, Harry,” Remus chided, “otherwise, I don’t know how Dora and I would feel about him spending the night.”

“I’m eighteen,” Harry reminded him, stuffing a bite of pancake into his mouth. “It’s perfectly legal, all things considered.”

“Yes, yes, we know,” Dora told him. “Have you checked the train schedules today? Do you know when everyone’s coming?”

“Ron and Hermione will be along with the twins, Angelina, and Lee to help set up about four hours before the party,” Harry explained. “Molly and Arthur are coming with the cake, and Hermione will be on hand to help you cook.”

“Thank goodness,” Dora said with a grin.

“Remus will be—”

“On baby duty and out of the way, like we discussed,” he said, saluting his godson, and earned himself a smirk.

“Ginny and Dean are coming down sometime around three, I think,” he said. “They were with his family for the past few weeks.”

“Will Percy and Audrey be coming?” Remus asked.

Harry smirked. “No, I think that Audrey’s morning sickness prevents them from going such long distances,” he said with a shrug.

“And Bill, Fleur, and Victoire?” Dora wanted to know.

“They’re coming,” Harry assured her. “They want to introduce everyone to that little angel of theirs. In fact, I think Fleur has it in mind to play at matchmaker.”

“How wonderful!” Dora gushed, and Remus rolled his eyes.

“Charlie still on break from the book tour of _Harry Lancaster and the Mysterious Dragon_?” he asked his godson.

Harry grinned. “Yes,” he replied. “He’s penning the sequel—_Harry Lancaster and the Dragon’s Promise_—as we speak.”

“And will he...?”

“Yes, Dora,” Harry replied, grinning at her. “He’s bringing you that signed, advanced copy. I know you haven’t seen him since school, but he remembers you, don’t worry.” As he continued eating breakfast, he saw Dora look at Remus, who nodded, and looked between the two of them in a moment of confusion. “What’s up?” he asked.

Remus smiled, holding up a finger as he got to his feet, and made his way out of the room, likely to his study, before he came back with a beautiful wood box. “Happy Birthday, Harry,” he said, and held it out to him.

Harry lowered his knife and fork and stared up at Remus for a moment before he took ahold of the box and opened it slowly. Inside was a stainless steel pocket watch, which still ticked rather becomingly, and Harry slowly lifted it out of the velvet lining. “This is amazing,” he said, taking in that it was ten o’clock.

“It was your great-grandfather, Henry’s watch,” Remus explained. “It’s a 1920’s Rolex Macaroni pocket watch.”

Harry turned it over then, seeing that H.P. was engraved on the back of the piece. “What did Henry do?” he asked.

“He served as an MP from 1913 until 1921,” Remus told him. “Your grandfather, Fleamont, told me, James, and Sirius all about him when we were in school.”

“And when he wasn’t an MP?”

“Barrister,” Remus replied.

Harry smiled, clicking the watch shut and putting it into his pocket, beside his mobile. “Thank you, Remus, for keeping it safe for me.”

“No problem, Harry.”

Harry sighed, clearing his throat. “Well,” he said, stretching his limbs, “do any of you need anything? My help, or...?”

“No,” Remus said, moving to take Teddy to get him cleaned up.

“I’m going to make this place presentable,” Dora declared with a grin, “Remus is taking Teddy to the play park, and you, Harry... Take out Andressa. Walk her around town a bit. You’ve been cooped up in here far too long, and it’s your birthday.”

“I second that,” Remus informed him.

Harry rolled his eyes, but nevertheless got to his feet, gathering Andressa into his arms. Once he was sure that he was sprung, he got Andressa’s lead from the pegs by the front door, as well as his set of keys from the bowl. Walking outside and into the July sunshine, he remembered Neville’s text from him earlier that week, informing him that he and Draco were in the French Riviera for the summer, mostly celebrating Neville’s birthday—as he was a mere day older than Harry was—and just celebrating their years at Wartsmoth Academy coming to an end. Harry smiled at the memory and got Andressa situated in the car, before he drove out of the driveway and on into town.

The hours leading up to Harry’s party weren’t so bad and, by the time he came back, many people had arrived to set up. Smells of his favorite foods came in from the kitchen, and he could hear Hermione and Dora, plus Angelina, scurrying around, getting everything ready. Ron, the twins, and Lee were setting up the living room, while Remus, Teddy, Bill, Fleur, and Victoire were in the backyard. Harry turned around as the front door opened, and in came Molly and Arthur, followed by Ginny and Dean, who quickly booted Harry upstairs so that he wouldn’t see anything more of the day ahead until the time came.

Harry grumbled under his breath, but did as he was told and carried Andressa up the stairs and into his bedroom. Upon opening the door, just jaw hit the floor when he saw Severus sitting on his bed, doing a crossword puzzle. Harry nearly fell over as Andressa broke away from him and bounded up onto the bed, immediately showing Severus all the love and attention.

“You’ve returned,” Severus said, setting aside the paper and stroking Andressa’s ears, making an indulgent expression at the puppy.

Harry rolled his eyes and closed the door, before he leaned against it. “I suppose I did,” he said with a slight shrug. “Want to tell me what you’re doing here?”

Severus paused from giving Andressa attention and looked up. “It’s my boyfriend’s eighteenth birthday,” he replied. “I assumed I was invited.”

Harry huffed. “You were also invited to stay the night, if you recall.”

Severus fixed Harry with a look. “And I explained to you, Harry, that I needed to get your birthday present ready, and that, therefore, I was unavailable.”

Harry kicked his trainer against the carpet on his bedroom floor. “Anything to do with a pub and another young bloke?”

Severus sighed, getting to his feet and crossing towards Harry, whereupon he tilted his chin up and stared down at him. “Harry, listen to me. I love you. I don’t want anyone else, and I never will want anyone else. There could be a thousand young and fit blokes offering themselves up to me, and I’d say ‘no’ each time, because, now that I’ve got you, I’ve no intention of doing something stupid that would mean losing you.”

“Then why have you been so distant lately?” Harry persisted. “I mean... I thought I’d done something wrong...”

Severus smiled and shook his head. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Harry.”

“Then why haven’t you been here? Or, when you are here, you’re preoccupied. Please... Please, just tell me what’s going on.”

Severus sighed, reaching into his pocket and making a grab for something, before taking ahold of it and grabbing Harry’s wrist, whereupon he dropped a silver skeleton key into his hand. “Happy Birthday.”

Harry blinked, staring down at the key which had an ornate, almost flowery pattern at its top, and a lovely little curved design at its base. Harry shook his head, looking up at Severus and found that he didn’t understand. “I don’t understand,” he said aloud.

Severus smiled. “It’s a key to my flat.”

Harry shook his head. “Your flat?”

Severus nodded. “Yes, my flat... Our flat, actually.”

Harry nearly stumbled, and Severus immediately caught him. “Holy shit, Severus. Did you just ask me to move in with you?”

Severus chuckled at Harry’s choice of words. “I did.”

“And Andressa, can she...?”

“The building allows cats and small dogs,” Severus informed him. “In fact, while you were out today, Remus and I already began moving your things.”

“Things? What things?”

“Well, your clothes, mostly,” Severus replied with a grin.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “You didn’t know I’d say ‘yes’.”

Severus smirked, stepping forward and gently caressing the outside of Harry’s khakis. “I just figured I’d persuade you if there was any reluctance.”

“No reluctance here,” Harry said, his tone resolute as he pushed himself further into Severus’s willing hand. “Promise.”

Severus smiled, leaning down so that he was hovering just above Harry’s lips. “So, I can take that as a ‘yes’, then?”

“Always,” Harry whispered back, wrapping his arms around Severus’s neck before he anchored his mouth onto his. “Hmmm... Happy Birthday to me...”

“And many more, I’m sure,” Severus said, his breath hot on Harry’s neck, causing his younger lover’s toes to curl, and for him to fall even more deeply in love with the man.


	14. Fade to Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry cocked an eyebrow. “You didn’t know I’d say ‘yes’.”
> 
> Severus smirked, stepping forward and gently caressing the outside of Harry’s khakis. “I just figured I’d persuade you if there was any reluctance.”
> 
> “No reluctance here,” Harry said, his tone resolute as he pushed himself further into Severus’s willing hand. “Promise.”
> 
> Severus smiled, leaning down so that he was hovering just above Harry’s lips. “So, I can take that as a ‘yes’, then?”
> 
> “Always,” Harry whispered back, wrapping his arms around Severus’s neck before he anchored his mouth onto his. “Hmmm... Happy Birthday to me...”
> 
> “And many more, I’m sure,” Severus said, his breath hot on Harry’s neck, causing his younger lover’s toes to curl, and for him to fall even more deeply in love with the man.

Severus’s flat was in a period building on Queensferry Road, about ten minutes from Dean Village, and fifteen minutes from Wartsmoth. He usually only spent his summers there but, now that Harry was to be living with him, he had decided to take up permanent residence there. It was a three bedroom flat, with Severus utilizing the master suite with a walk-in closet and bathroom as his bedroom, while the other two rooms were used as a study and library, while the final one as a meditation room. There was a living room, dining room, kitchen, two other bathrooms, and a balcony off the living room, where one could sit out and watch the traffic go by if they had a mind to.

Harry was pleased when Ron agreed to get the twins, Lee, Bill, and Remus on board to help with the moving process, and, within three days of his birthday, he was living with Severus. Harry was currently standing by the window, looking out at the traffic; it was overcast that early August day, so sitting outside wasn’t really appealing to him. Andressa, exhausted from scurrying about her new home, had fallen asleep on the couch, and was quiet, the slight trickle of rain that fell from the sky effectively putting her asleep. Ron, the twins, Lee, Bill, and Remus had just left after helping out with the final bits and bobs of Harry’s belongings, and Severus had agreed to walk them out.

“Is it everything you ever imagined?” Severus asked, walking into the living room and putting his arms around Harry’s waist.

Harry leaned back, arching himself slightly so that his head was positioned next to Severus’s head, and he found he was perfectly at ease for their physical contact. “It’s better,” he said quietly, reveling in the sensations of Severus running his hands up and down his body. “We don’t have to hide anymore. The Board of Governors won’t come after you. I’m officially over eighteen-years-old. I’m no longer your student. Plus, Riddle and those cronies of his are locked away for the foreseeable future...”

“Are you all right?” Severus asked.

Harry sighed, gently pulling himself from Severus’s embrace so as he could turn around and face him. “We’re together, right?”

Severus smiled. “I consider you my partner, Harry. Of course we’re together.”

Harry felt his heart slamming in his chest at the words. “I... I wanted to ask you something.”

“Ask me, then.”

“How would you feel about coming to see Amelia with me?” Harry asked. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t want to hide you, from any aspect of my life.”

“She knows?”

“She knows you as Stephen Silvers, a chemist who lives in Culross,” Harry replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “We met at a pub a few times and I willingly and without coercion went back to yours.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “Did we engage in sex?”

Harry sighed. “I may have implied to her that I lost my virginity to you after it happened. I know that Amelia doesn’t want me engaging in reckless behavior, but when I told her I was in love with you... I can’t describe the look on her face.”

“Horrified, was she?”

“More like relieved, especially when I told her that you were in love with me, too,” Harry told him with a smile. “She... I saw her about a week before my birthday and she assumed that there was progression within the relationship. Naturally, I had no idea we’d be moving in together, but I told her that you and I were quite serious. Anyhow, she’s told me that she would like to meet you, if you’re amenable to it. If not, I’ll drop the subject and let her know that you’re not interested in—”

Severus stepped forward then, embracing Harry and meeting his lips. “Of course I want to meet Amelia, Harry,” he told him quietly. “I love you. You mean everything to me, and now that we no longer have to hide, I don’t have any desire to do so. I’ll go to as many appointments that you want me to, Harry, provided that you want me there...”

Harry tightened his grip on Severus. “I’ll always want you.” He hesitated.

“Something else on your mind?”

Harry flushed. “Well... I was hoping that, now that we’re alone, we could attempt to leave Andressa napping where she is on the couch there, and slip off to the master suite, and christen the bedroom properly. However, if you don’t want—”

Severus grinned wickedly down at Harry then, before he kissed him deeply, whereupon he tugged his arm back to the master suite, and shut the door behind them, for however much he loved Andressa, he didn’t want her interrupting time with his lover.

. . .

“Harry, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Harry swallowed, knotting his fingers together where they sat inside the café, located just around the corner from Amelia’s office. His appointment was scheduled for half an hour later, but he found that even a mug of tea wasn’t helping the situation. The biscuit he’d gotten was still lying, half-eaten, beside the mug upon its saucer. He turned his head and looked outside at the summer rain falling, deliberately not looking over at his lover. “I know,” he said softly, and swallowed.

“Tell me what’s bothering you.”

Harry sighed. “She’ll make the connection, you know that, right?” he asked, hunching his shoulders slightly as he turned to stare at the nut-brown color of the circular table they were currently sitting at. “Amelia. She’ll figure out that you’re Stephen Silvers, and have been this whole time, not to mention that I actually went to the same school as her daughter did, being in the same classes, and all. What if she...?”

“Harry,” Severus said gently, reaching across the small table and clutching at his former students’ hands. “You must know, by this time, that we’ve done nothing wrong. At least, in the eyes of the public. The only thing that can be said was that I should have held off for another month before I permitted myself to...”

“No,” Harry said, his tone firm as his eyes locked onto Severus’s. “Don’t you ever say that. I mean...” He broke off then, clearing his throat in a sorry attempt to keep his voice from trembling. “You don’t regret it, do you?”

“Our relationship?”

He shook his head. “No, I meant... Our first time together.”

“The law says that I must,” Severus said plainly.

“The law is wrong,” Harry told him, his voice fierce. “I love you, and I wanted it as much as you did... I mean, you did want it, didn’t you?”

Severus smiled then, a truly happy smile. “Yes,” he said simply. “Of course I did, Harry,” he went on, gently cupping Harry’s cheek and caressing it with the pad of his thumb. “You know how much I love you.”

Harry smiled, his eyes prickling slightly with unshed tears. “I...”

“Yes?”

He shook his head, finally permitting himself to sip the rest of his tea, and finish his biscuit. “I know that Amelia wouldn’t want us to be late.”

Severus chuckled, but nodded his head. “I am quite sure you’re correct.” He finished his mug of coffee before he got to his feet, and offered Harry his hand. “Shall we?”

Harry took Severus’s hand and they walked out of the café together, pulling their jackets closer around them as they sped down the street. Turning the corner, they came to the white stone building which housed Amelia’s office, and trooped up the wet staircase and inside. The foyer was done up in beautiful black and white tile, and had a Victorian chandelier suspended from the high ceiling. The ceiling itself was wrapped with golden gilt, which gave way to a cream color and some beautiful water-color looking flowers in pale pastel colors.

Harry gently squeezed Severus’s hand and guided him in the direction of the grand staircase, made from elegantly-carved cherrywood and sporting a red center carpet nailed to the stairs themselves. Once up the stairs, Harry mentally counted the doors until they reached the end of the hallway, pulling open the one in the very center, and tugged Severus inside. Squeezing his lover’s hand one last time, he let it go, and crossed over to the receptionist’s desk, and smiled at the young woman behind it.

“Hello, Penelope,” he said to her. “I’m here for my three-thirty.”

“Good to see you again, Harry,” Penelope replied, smiling pleasantly at him, typing in some information onto her rather large desktop computer, before she looked around him. “Oh! I take it this is him, then?”

“It certainly is,” Harry said, positively beaming then as he promptly extended his hand to Severus. “Severus, this is Penelope Clearwater,” he told him. “Penelope, this is Severus Snape.”

“Harry’s partner,” Severus said eloquently, and extended his own hand to her. “Harry’s told me how exceptional you’ve been in welcoming him.”

“Part of my job, sir,” Penelope replied, smiling politely at Severus as she shook his hand. “Harry was always a special case, though. Did you know he was the first person, other than Amelia and her family, of course, who asked me how my day’s been going?”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “I knew Harry to be polite, Miss Clearwater, but I am appalled that it took so long for your sake.”

Penelope smiled, and finished checking Harry in. “Well, you’re kind to say so, sir.”

“How is your day going, Penelope?” Harry asked.

Penelope smiled at him. “Well, thank you. Chester and I just celebrated our two-year anniversary last week.” She raised her arm then, showing off a lovely solitaire diamond ring. “Proposed and everything, right there in my parents’ living room, where we’d all gathered. It was quite a shock, but, naturally, I said ‘yes’.”

“Congratulations, Miss Clearwater,” Severus said.

“It’ll be Mrs. Davies by the end of next year,” Penelope replied with a sweet giggle.

“Penelope’s a student at Edinburgh, too,” Harry told Severus.

“A third-year, so I’m close to being nearly halfway done with my Bachelor’s Degree,” she said with a smile. “Chester’s already graduated, and he’s working at his father’s architect firm, Designs by Davies,” she explained, obviously very proud of her fiancé, and Severus nodded, having heard of the company.

“And what are you studying, Miss Clearwater?”

“Teaching,” she replied. “My goal is to get my Bachelor’s in Education and History. I’m thinking of a secondary school,” she told him.

“Severus is a professor, too,” Harry put in.

“Oh, yes?” Penelope asked. “What do you teach?”

“The sciences,” Severus told her.

“Oh, how fascinating,” Penelope said, and got to her feet as Amelia’s office door opened, and the therapist stood there, smiling. “Oh, Dr. Bones. It’s that time already, isn’t it?”

“Yes, dear, it seems to be,” Amelia said with a smile. “Harry, why don’t you come in? You, too, Mr. Silvers,” she said, giving Severus a knowing look and beckoned the two of them inside her office.

Penelope smiled at Harry and Severus, waving them off and resumed sitting at her desk, checking in appointments and answering phone calls.

Harry gripped onto Severus’s fingers as they walked into Amelia’s office, and she considerately shut the door behind them. Harry moved to his customary seat, the couch against the wall, and was relieved when Severus moved to sit beside him. He nodded when Amelia offered them cups of tea, and Severus opted for one as well. As they waited for the kettle to boil, Amelia sat across from them, notepad, clipboard, and pen in hand, and regarded them.

“So, this is the famous Stephen Silvers?”

Harry swallowed. “Yes.”

Amelia nodded, and turned to Severus. “Are you or are you not Severus Snape, Professor of Sciences at Wartsmoth Academy?”

Severus sighed. “I am.” He crossed his legs then, and stared at Amelia. “And is this the time that you call the constables?”

Amelia blinked, her brown eyes confused. “Why would I do that? Harry is no longer a student at Wartsmoth Academy, and he is eighteen.” Her eyes sparkled slightly then. “As far as I know, no wrong-doing has been committed.”

Severus looked at Harry, and then back to Amelia. “I see.”

“But, Amelia,” Harry protested, shaking his head. “I told you what happened on the night of the top-marks trip,” he said quickly. “You know very well that Severus and I...”

“You told me that he was Stephen Silvers at the time, Harry,” Amelia said with smile. “As I said, no wrong-doing went on.” She sighed, putting aside her writing implements and supplies and got to her feet as the kettle went off. She poured the three mugs of tea, placing them and a plate of biscuits, three spoons, a bowl of sugar, a pint of milk, a platter of lemons, and a jar of honey onto it, and brought it back towards the session area. “Besides, Severus had already graded your exam by that time, so it wasn’t as if any of the work you performed in your physics class was too terribly important to your end-of-year marks.”

Harry sighed, sitting back on the couch. “No. No, I suppose not.”

Amelia nodded, and looked over at Severus. “I know he loves you.”

“As much as I love him,” Severus replied, wrapping Harry’s hand with his. “I tried to stop, from the time he expressed an interest. We succeeded for a time, but it was no way to live. We literally could not stay away from one another, Dr. Bones.”

“Please, call me Amelia,” she told him, and Severus nodded. “Normally, I wouldn’t condone such behavior, and I would not hesitate to report it to everyone under the sun. However, in this case, I found that I could not, simply because of all Harry had been through,” she explained. “Harry didn’t deserve to have something else taken away from him, someone he loved, especially at such a difficult time in his life. I would not put him through that. The system, quite frankly, failed him, Severus, and I would not be the cause of further unhappiness for him.”

“You don’t see it as jeopardizing your integrity?” Severus asked.

“Not to mention your license,” Harry put in.

Amelia shook her head. “No, I don’t. All doctors must take an oath to do no harm. I would be causing harm for you if I stirred up trouble, making Severus jobless and his reputation besmirched, plus your own life in tatters for the umpteenth time Harry. I believe that reporting this, which I absolutely refuse to do, would do the ultimate harm. You told me that you wanted to live your life. I suppose it’s a life with Severus?”

“Yes,” Harry said immediately, finding that he was crying now. “Yes. I can’t explain it, but I was drawn to him...”

“Talk to me about that,” Amelia said. “If you don’t mind, Severus.”

Severus shook his head. “Not at all. I’ve often wondered why myself.”

“Because you... You never treated me any different,” Harry said quietly.

Severus sighed. “I know I was horrible to you...”

“No, you don’t get it—I welcomed it,” Harry said.

“Harry, I don’t think...”

“Severus,” Amelia said, cutting in gently, “let Harry speak.”

“Right. Sorry,” Severus said.

“I welcomed it, Severus, because it meant that I wasn’t getting special treatment. All these people wanted to be my friend in school, because I was the only person that Riddle tried to kill, but failed. I got a bullet to the head, Severus, and it’s nothing short of a miracle that I somehow managed to survive. However, nobody could just leave it at that, and they wouldn’t let it alone, to the point where all I wanted to do was ignore everyone. Ron, Hermione, and our other friends were amazing, and they helped me through it like you wouldn’t believe. It was bad enough that Riddle killed my parents, but to have total strangers come up to me at random points in my life to constantly point it out was, quite frankly, awful.”

Severus swallowed. “I had no idea you felt that way.”

Harry smiled. “You wouldn’t have, Severus, because you nor I took the opportunity to stop our childless bickering for a moment. But it was all right, in the end, because you weren’t treating me like I could walk on water. I hated it when professors, Headmaster Dumbledore, and other students at Wartsmoth did that. And not to mention the strangers.”

“I didn’t know, Harry. I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do know,” Harry replied, reaching out and touching Severus’s face. “From the moment I first saw you—really seeing you, after I looked at your meditation journal, plus the chemistry textbook I had... I suddenly understood you for you. I wanted more than anything to speak to that person, to get to know them. Little did I know how alike the two of us were, and the moment I found out the reasons for that, all was forgiven. I don’t know what I would have done in the same situation growing up, knowing that I didn’t have anyone there for me that understood it and were there to help me. But know, just know, Severus, that I’m here, and I’m never going anywhere.”

Severus found that tears of his own were suspended in his eyes, waiting to create wet paths down his cheeks. “I love you,” Severus whispered.

“I love you, too,” Harry replied, accepting Severus’s embrace and kissing him, relieved that Amelia didn’t attempt to interrupt them for a moment.

. . .

Harry snuggled closer to Severus that morning, despite the fact that they had to get up early and catch a train from Edinburgh to Devon, to the Weasley residence. Hermione was turning nineteen-years-old that day, and both Harry and Severus were due to make an appearance. Molly and Arthur had known about the relationship between the two of them since graduation, and, while slightly taken aback, both had been tremendously supportive of the two of them.

Harry pushed closer, savoring the smell of sandalwood and chamomile that was inexplicably drawn to Severus. It was a Saturday, thankfully, so his partner wouldn’t be missing valuable time with his Wartsmoth science classes. He had prepared his lecture and lessons for next week ahead of time, and so this meant that he wasn’t allowed to grouse about leaving Scotland for the day. It made Harry terribly excited to bring Severus along, because it meant that they truly belonged to one another, and were even going public with their relationship.

“Harry,” Severus whispered, wakening to Harry’s lips pressing repeatedly up and down Severus’s jaw, and he smirked, burying his face into Harry’s hair.

“Good morning,” Harry greeted, pushing himself flush against his lover. “Oh,” he said, his tone darkening then as he felt Severus’s excitement. “Very good morning...”

“We have a train to catch,” Severus said, knowing he would lose the argument as Harry dove underneath the blankets.

“We have time,” Harry informed him, trying not to laugh, as he affixed his lips around the head of Severus’s cock.

“Fuck, Harry,” Severus said, dragging his fingers through Harry’s hair. “How do you know how to do that so well?”

“Learned from the best,” Harry replied, before wrapping his lips around it again.

Severus moaned as Harry secured his hand around the base of his erection, and then pulled off of it, proceeding to lap at his balls. “Harry...” He moaned, arching up to meet his mouth. “Harry, don’t stop...”

“Never,” Harry whispered.

Severus groaned a few moments later, spilling his seed into Harry’s willing mouth and then dragging his lover upwards, meeting his mouth and kissing him, feeling that sinful part of his mind moan with delight at the notion that Harry tasted of him. He held Harry in his arms for a few moments before he persuaded him to get up and take a shower. Severus perused through his dresser, figuring out what would be appropriate to wear for the party that day.

“Severus?”

Severus looked up, spotting Harry standing in the bathrooms’ doorway. “Yes, Harry?”

Harry grinned at him. “Did that take too much out of you?”

Severus cocked an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

Harry nibbled his bottom lip then, considering it. “Fuck me?” he asked.

“I believe I told you that we had a schedule to keep.”

“We do,” Harry replied with a nod. “I was just thinking that we could kill two birds with one stone this morning.”

“And what are you proposing?”

“That we shower together,” Harry said simply. “I was thinking that you could fuck me before the washing begins.”

Severus grinned evilly then, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist with hunger in his eyes. “I’m always going to want to fuck that delicious arse of yours,” he whispered in Harry’s ear.

“R-really, Severus?”

“Really. Now, get that delicious arse into the shower,” he said, cupping it for a moment before shoving Harry towards it, and Harry grinned at him over his shoulder.

They made the train with plenty of time to spare, and Harry kept a good grip upon Andressa as they made their way to their previously booked compartment. Harry moved to a seat by the window, and Severus moved to sit beside him, a bag in his hand, which carried the gifts that Harry and Severus had gotten for Hermione. Harry had bought Hermione a laptop—a bulky, three-dimensional cube-looking thing that Severus was unconvinced would ever legitimately become a thing. Severus had opted for a more traditional gift, all four volumes of Torts, which Hermione would need to be taken seriously at Oxford that year. His grandparents had had an impressive library, which he had inherited upon their deaths, and they had all four volumes in pristine condition and, since Severus had no need of them, believed that Hermione would be a wonderful new owner of them.

“It’s a seven-hour journey,” Severus said softly as they rumbled through the Scottish hills at a medium pace, holding both the gifts for Hermione, as well as a duffel bag.

Harry nodded, wondering what the duffel was for. “It is.”

Severus smiled. “Tomorrow is Sunday.”

Harry blinked. “Yes, I know.”

“Well, I figured that we would stay somewhere in Devon this evening. That way, we won’t have to rush away from the festivities, and merely go to sleep.”

“You’re sure?” Harry asked.

Severus grinned. “I made the reservations at the beginning of the month.”

Harry shook his head then, leaning back in the trains’ seat.

“What is it?” Severus asked.

Harry smiled slowly then and reached for Severus’s hand. “Nothing. I just don’t understand what I did to deserve you,” he said simply.

“You deserve it all, Harry.”

“So do you, Severus. So do you.”

Severus and Harry arrived in Devon a bit before two, and hired a cab to take them the rest of the way to the Weasley residence in Ottery St. Mary. It was a pleasant car ride, and the driver took a liking to Andressa. When they arrived on the grounds of the Weasley farm, Severus paid the man as Harry darted out of the car, by which time the door was thrown open, and Ron and Hermione were running eagerly towards him.

“You’re here, you’re here, you’re here!” Hermione chanted, and made a grab for Andressa, who let out an excited bark at the attention.

“Nice to see you, too, Hermione,” Harry said with mock-bitterness.

“Leave it, mate—she’s been talking about Andressa all morning,” Ron said, rolling his eyes and embracing Harry. “You all right? Train trip go well?”

“It was quite all right, I assure you, Mr. Weasley,” Severus said, coming up behind them, and Ron immediately released his hold on Harry, who stepped backwards, with Severus instinctively wrapping an arm around him.

“That’s wonderful to hear, sir,” Hermione said, smiling radiantly up at him.

“Happiest of birthdays, Miss Granger,” Severus said.

“It’s ‘Hermione’ of course, sir,” she told him.

“Then I shall be ‘Severus’. That goes for you, too, Mr. Weasley.”

Ron nodded. “Call me ‘Ron’, please.”

“Harry,” said Molly, bustling out of the house and wiping her hands on a tea towel, before she threw it over her shoulder and came towards him. “You must come inside. We’re going to start eating soon, and Arthur, Hermes, and Jean cannot wait to see you.”

“Sounds great,” he said, letting her go.

“Ah, Severus,” Molly said, and embraced the man briefly. “You’d best come in as well. The twins are inside with Angelina and Lee, and I know that they’ll make good on their threat to eat all the food in sight.”

“Not the finger sandwiches!” Ron cried out, grabbing Hermione’s hand, who herself was still holding Andressa, and pulled her back into the house.

“You made finger sandwiches, Molly?”

“Oh, yes,” Molly said as the three of them walked towards the front door. “We’ve also got chicken, ham, roast beef, some fish and chips that the twins insisted on bringing, and some delightful Cornish pasties that Jean made,” she went on as they stepped inside, heavenly aromas filling all of their noses. “Then, for pudding other than the cake, is an apple crumble, bread and butter pudding, treacle tart, and a jam roly-poly,” she explained.

“That all sounds wonderful, Molly. Thank you,” Severus replied, watching as Harry stepped into the living room to greet the eldest Weasley—William, Severus believed his name was—his beautiful wife, Fleur, and their daughter, Victoire.

“Oh, let me take that from you, Severus,” Molly said, motioning to the bag he held, and smiled at him as she took it, and moved it to a lace-covered table across the room, which was already plenty laden with various wrapped gifts.

“She’s just gorgeous!” Harry cooed at Victoire, who was quite close to a year and a half. “You two must be so happy.”

“Happy that she looks like Fleur? Yes,” Bill said with a laugh.

“Would you like to ‘old ‘er, ‘arry?” Fleur asked with a smile.

“Please,” Harry said, and reached out, carefully holding the little girl in his arms, who inspected him for a moment, before laying her head on his shoulder. “Oh, my,” he whispered.

“She likes you,” Bill said encouragingly.

“It gives my arms a break,” Fleur said, stretching her arms out this way and that, and made a pleased sound when Bill gently began massaging her shoulders. “You are too good to me, William,” she whispered.

“How’s things at the bank?” Harry asked, gently rolling on the balls of his feet to keep little Victoire calm.

“Zhey are quite all right, thank you,” Fleur replied with a smile. “I’m spending more time ‘ome with zhis one, and I find I like it much more zhen zhe bank.”

“I got promoted to manager of our branch,” Bill explained. “We’ve discussed it, and Fleur wants to be at home with the children.”

“It is vhat I know,” Fleur said with a shrug. “I ‘ad to ‘elp raise my leetle sister, Gabrielle, and I ‘ave missed my daughter.”

“I love coming home at the end of the day, and seeing them together,” Bill confessed. “Fleur is always making sure the house is clean, that Victoire is happy... And, very often, she will cook my favorite meals.”

“I never ‘ought such a man vould be so simple to please,” Fleur said.

The rest of the day went swimmingly, with both Harry and Severus tucking in to their respective meals with gusto. When the gift presentation arrived, Hermione was floored at the books that Severus had brought for her, and deeply moved that they had come from his family library. She was also shocked by the laptop that Harry had bought her, as she had yet to receive one, and said that the note-taking process would be so much easier now. Time went by quickly after that, with pudding time arriving and the sun slipping over the horizon. Severus called them a cab to take them to the hotel for the night, and they said goodbye to everyone in turn before the cab took them away.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Harry asked.

Severus smirked. “No,” he replied.

Less than twenty minutes later, they arrived at the top of a hill, where a beautiful, brick manor-looking building stood. Severus smirked as Harry’s jaw dropped, and paid the driver handsomely before he retrieved the duffel from the boot and moved to follow Harry, who held Andressa in a protective manner in his arms. They walked through the stone archway leading to the entrance of the hotel, which was called The Victoria, and stepped into the lobby.

“Good evening, my name is Romilda,” said the pretty, fresh-faced young woman behind the receptionists’ desk, who sported flowing black hair. “Welcome to The Victoria Hotel. How may I assist you?”

“We have a reservation,” Severus said politely, stepping forward.

“Very good, sir,” Romilda replied, pulling the ledger towards her. “What’s the name under the reservation, please?”

“Snape,” Severus replied.

Romilda flashed Severus a smile before bending her dark head towards the ledger again, and ran the pad of her index finger along it until it came to the name in question, whereupon she tapped it against the paper. “Ah, yes. The Victoria Suite, already paid in-full,” she said with a smile, before turning around and grabbing the correct keycards, and handed one to Severus and the other one to Harry. “Our restaurant, The Jubilee Room, has a special Saturday dinner option. As you two are guests here, and we’re not full this evening, you have no need of making a reservation to attend.”

“Is that our only dining option, Romilda?” Severus asked.

Romilda shook her head. “Of course not, sir. If you wish a more informal evening, by all means, go to The White Room. And there is always room service if you’re feeling a bit knackered after such a long day.”

Severus nodded. “Thank you, Romilda. You have been exceptionally helpful.” Severus nodded at her then and put his hand on the small of Harry’s back, who seemed all to pleased to leave the foyer of the hotel and move towards the lifts. Peeking over his shoulder, Severus nearly grinned with glee at Romilda’s shocked expression, and was suddenly aware of how much she had been ogling Harry, and about how he wanted to stake his claim.

“I’m feeling The White Room tonight, Severus, if that’s all right,” Harry said softly as they stepped into the lifts.

Severus nodded. “Of course, Harry. Whatever you wish.”

Once they were upstairs, Severus and Harry changed their clothes and situated Andressa, who immediately fell asleep on the window embrasure. Severus was about to leave the room with Harry, were it not for his minx of a lover suddenly darting forward, pulling Severus into his arms and arching himself against him.

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment,” Severus said, lowering his head down to Harry’s so as he could kiss him, “I would like to know why you’re in such a mood, so that I can attempt to help you replicate it in future.”

Harry grinned up at him. “It’s you.”

Severus blinked. “Sorry?”

“I’m in this mood because of you.”

Severus shook his head. “Explain it to me, please.”

Harry shrugged. “I’m in this mood because you’re wonderful at being you, Severus. You’re kind and generous and considerate...”

Severus growled mockingly. “I am no such thing.”

“...a terrible liar,” Harry said, and grinned up at him.

“Perhaps I am only terrible when I know I am lying,” Severus said with a shrug.

“Perhaps,” Harry said, pulling himself closer still to Severus. “But I can’t help but be happy. I’m living my best life, here, in this moment, and I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Severus smiled. “Are you sure?”

“More sure than I’ve been in my entire life,” Harry said, pushing himself up on his toes so that he could kiss Severus again.

. . .

Harry began at the University of Edinburgh on the final day of September, and was pleased that Headmaster Dumbledore had written to the chancellor, His Royal Highness, the Duke of Edinburgh, as well as its principal, Baron Stewart Sutherland, on behalf of Andressa. If he followed by the university’s protocol, he was permitted to have her with him at all times. It seemed as if, perhaps, in this one situation, bearing the name of ‘Harry Potter’ seemed to work well in his favor.

He had emailed with Ron and Hermione, due to begin at University College and Oxford University respectively, and learned just how pleased they were in their new roles. Ron had sought advice from Rolf in the coming weeks after qualifications for the bootcamp for Scotland Yard, and Harry didn’t question it further, remembering his encounter with Oliver Wood and feeling particularly guilty about it. Hermione, meanwhile, was all too happy about her weekly teas with Rufus Scrimgeour, who delighted in sharing war stories about cases, the courtroom, and particularly nasty habits that young barristers could pick up, and, her favorite part, how to avoid the nasty habits altogether.

It was a delight to hear from Bill and Fleur, who immediately told Molly and Arthur, who quickly told Ron and Hermione, who promptly told Harry and Severus, that Fleur had left the bank, in the wake of her announcement that she was pregnant again. Harry was pleased to hear that piece of pleasant information, because he was becoming more and more convinced by the day that his organic chemistry professor, Quirinus Quirrell, had it in for him. Even the stammer the professor seemed to have going for him seemed to vanish whenever Harry found himself on the receiving end of a wrong answer—which hardly ever happened—and the professor seemed to delight in using double entendre in which to deliberately trip him up.

Finally, the first term had ended and he would never need to see Professor Quirrell again, as he had passed the subject and was permitted to move on. Autumn had passed rather quickly that year, and winter had arrived, and thus the Christmas holidays had gone by, it seemed, just as fast as autumn had done. Luna had reached her eighteenth birthday in early February, and Rolf had surprised her with a proposal, much to hers and everyone else’s delight. Xenophilius, Harry knew, had always been extremely protective of his only child, but seemed to like Rolf very much as a suitable partner for his daughter.

On Valentine’s Day, one day after Luna’s eighteenth birthday and engagement, Harry was out quite late that Sunday night. Classes for him that term didn’t begin until ten o’clock the next morning, but as he slipped into the flat he shared with Severus close to nine, he knew that he was in hot water. Severus was sitting in the living room, Andressa on his lap, and trying to thumb through Harry’s copy of _A Brief History of Time_. Harry had said he would be spending the better part of the day studying in the library, but, of course, it hadn’t been the entire truth. He shut and locked the door of the flat behind him, and made his way into the living room, spotting Severus almost immediately.

“Good evening,” Severus said, his tone curt, and he didn’t look up.

Harry sighed, knowing he was in for it now. “Severus...”

“How was the library?”

Harry swallowed. “It was lovely—”

“Wrong,” Severus said, slamming the book shut, and causing Andressa to lift her head in a moment of confusion. “Wrong, Harry. I went there to surprise my boyfriend with a picnic this afternoon, because I was under the impression that you enjoyed Valentine’s Day, despite the notion that I believe it to be utterly saccharine.”

“I do enjoy it, Severus,” Harry replied, treading carefully. “And it would all depend on what time you got there. I wasn’t at the library all day.”

“You weren’t?”

“No, something came up, and I had an appointment to keep,” he said.

Severus’s lips pressed to a thin line. “You’ve finished with Amelia,” he replied. “I thought you told me that your last session was the fourth one I went to.”

“And it was,” Harry agreed. “I didn’t have an appointment with Amelia.”

“Oh? And who did you have one with, then?”

“An estate agent,” Harry told him.

Severus sighed. “So, that’s it, then?” he asked, getting slowly to his feet without disturbing Andressa further, and moved to the other side of the room.

Harry blinked. “Excuse me?”

Severus whipped around then. “If you were unhappy, you could’ve told me,” he said, his voice tightening slightly with untapped devastation.

Harry scoffed. “Unhappy? Please. I’m happier than I’ve ever been—”

“Then why the estate agent, and why the secrets?” Severus demanded. “You’ve been distant as of late, Harry, and I don’t understand...”

Harry crossed the room then, and put his arms around Severus. “I’m sorry,” he said, and smiled up at him. “Look, the reason why I’ve been so quiet is because I was working on something top-secret, for you.”

Severus blinked. “For me?”

“Of course,” Harry said, reaching into his pocket and bringing out a key, which he promptly dropped into Severus’s hand. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Severus shook his head. “I don’t understand. What is...?”

“It’s the key to our home,” Harry told him with a smile.

Severus’s jaw dropped. “Our home?”

Harry grinned, wrapping his arms around Severus’s neck. “Yes, our home. I’ve told you more than once how long I’m going to be with you—forever. So, I used the part of my fortune that I had access to before turning twenty-one, and again at twenty-five, to buy us a house. I’m in this forever, Severus, and we deserve more space for a wonderful life.”

“Where is it?” Severus asked.

“Midlothian,” Harry said proudly. “It’s a seven-bedroom detached house, with land and trees all around it, and a massive garden...”

“Seven bedrooms?!” Severus demanded.

Harry smiled. “Yes. Enough for a master suite, an office for each of us...”

Severus swallowed, weighing the key in his hand. “And children?”

Harry hunched his shoulders. “I know we’ve never discussed it...”

“Somehow, I would have remembered if we had,” Severus put in.

“I want children,” Harry said simply, running his fingers up and down Severus’s back. “I’ve always wanted children. But, if it means I have to give them up to keep you, then I will. You’re the love of my life, and I’m not letting you go, ever again.”

Severus stared down at Harry. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I want children, but I would be fully prepared to give them up, if it meant that I can be with you,” he said.

Severus sighed. “You don’t have to give up a thing.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

“I’ll have children with you, Harry, if it means that much to you.”

Harry shook his head. “No, Severus. Don’t do it or accept it just because I want them. You have to want them, too.”

Severus smiled, leaning down and pressing his forehead to Harry’s. “I want them because you want them, Harry,” he stated with a smile. “I never wanted them before, but, now that I have you, I want them. Does that make sense?”

Harry’s breath hitched in his throat then. “You know it... It does,” he replied.

“So... You’ve bought this house?”

Harry nodded. “Yes.”

Severus pulled him closer then, his heart thundering. “When can we move in?”

. . .

Once Harry and Severus moved in—spending the Easter holidays making sure that everything was perfect—they knew that they were on the right track. Since it was Harry’s first year of university, he was looking forward to the few weeks off he got during the summer. When Severus left on the first of June to head into the city, Harry thought nothing of it, and focused on the meal he was dead-set on preparing them for dinner that night. When Severus returned—hiding the bag from Garrick Ollivander’s Lapidary somewhere that he thought his boyfriend would never find it—all was well.

They traveled to Wiltshire a few days later, to meet Draco and Neville at the Malfoy Estate for Draco’s nineteenth birthday. Narcissa was just as polite as always, and delighted in presiding over the event. She watched Draco and Neville with her dark eyes, beaming at the notion that her son had found someone wonderful. She looked quite a bit younger, now that her divorce from Lucius was finalized, and kept staring at Alastor Moody from across the room, who Draco had invited as a friendly gesture. The looks were returned, and Harry, Severus, Ron, Hermione, Draco, Neville, Dean, Ginny, Luna, and Rolf all had to hide their various forms of amusement as they spoke to one another.

“Your matchmaking skills are on point, Draco,” Hermione said, beaming at him.

“Let’s hope this one sticks,” Ron put in.

“He’s a far better improvement over Lucius,” Draco growled. “I’m sure that, if push came to shove and they did get serious, Alastor would treat Mother right.”

They wouldn’t all come together again until the end of the month, where they celebrated Ginny and Luna’s commencement from the Upper Sixth Form. It was quite a trek when, afterwards, everyone connected to the group went to the train station, hopping a train for the Weasley family farm to celebrate. They each had to get different cabs on the other side, however, and, once Harry and Severus arrived, Harry realized that everyone else was already inside. As he moved towards the door, Severus put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Fancy a walk?” he asked. “It’s such a beautiful night, and it would do us good to stretch our legs a bit before heading in there.”

Harry smiled at him. “Very well, then.”

Harry and Severus proceeded to walk the grounds on the Weasley property, and remembered coming there many times as he’d grown up. Favored memories always seemed to revolve around football, and kicking the ball back and forth on the grounds. Once, during one of his first times being there, one of the twins had deliberately kicked the ball into Molly’s vegetable patch, liking to use it as the goal. Harry had gone to retrieve it and Molly had seen him, lightly scolding him for getting too close to her swedes, and Harry had apologized. Molly, however, had quickly assessed the situation, and assured Harry that she did not blame him.

“Have I lost you?”

“No, never,” Harry said, shaking his head, and relayed the story.

“Do you like swedes?”

Harry laughed. “Not particularly, no.”

Severus smirked. “Noted,” he replied.

They continued walking around the beautiful grounds, hand in hand, hearing the cows, horses, pigs, and sheep in the barn a few yards away. Harry was a little surprised as they actually wandered into the barn, and saw a beautiful horse, called Errol, who the Weasley family had had for years, all saddled up with a two-person saddle and ready to go. Severus assisted Harry up onto the trusty horses’ back, and climbed aboard himself, reaching in front of Harry to guide the reins of the beautiful creature out of the barn. They made their way towards the edge of the property itself, where you could actually see the horizon clearly, and Harry marveled in all the colors needed to make such a beautiful sunset.

“Are you happy?” Severus asked from behind him.

“Mmm,” Harry said softly, leaning back so that he was in Severus’s arms. “With you? Of course I am. Always.”

Severus sighed, pressing a kiss into Harry’s hair. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Harry said, managing to turn around so that he was facing Severus. “Are you all right? You sound a bit strange.”

Severus nodded. “Just nervous.”

“Nervous? About what?”

Severus swallowed, reaching into his pocket and holding a box in his hand, which caused Harry to gasp a little at the sight of it. “I love you, Harry, and I always will.” He opened the box then and showed off the ring that lay inside. It was a gold band, with rune-like etchings upon it, the runes themselves separated by rubies. “Harry James Potter, will you marry me?”

“Oh, my god,” Harry whispered.

“If you don’t like it, we can always...”

“No!” Harry cried out then, launching himself forwards then and throwing his arms around the love of his life, to the point where Severus had to grip onto the box to keep it from going flying off somewhere. “I love it, and I love you, and yes!” he said breathlessly.

Severus pulled back then, staring at Harry. “‘Yes?’” he asked.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Harry crowed, holding out his arm, to which Severus promptly slipped the ring onto the correct finger. Harry let out an exalted shout then and threw his arms back around Severus, anchoring his mouth to his lover’s and kissing him breathlessly. “Let’s just hope we don’t have to wait forever...”

Severus sighed. “The law is wrong,” he said softly, remembering the conversation he’d had with Harry previously, about an entirely different law. “Let’s just hope that Hermione is among those who can change it.”

“She will,” Harry assured him with a smile.

“You’re sure?”

“Hey, you’ve met Hermione,” Harry told him with a laugh, nestling in his arms, letting out a laugh as Severus pulled Errol gently by the reins, and led them back to the barn. “She won’t stop until she gets her way. A stubborn girl, that one...”

“Yes, but in this case, she’ll need it,” Severus said softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of his fiancé’s head, and tried to keep the tears of joy from flowing.

. . .

After Harry and Neville had turned nineteen, and Ginny eighteen, not much happened much for the next four days. Then, when Severus presented Harry with a pair of plane tickets, and a voicemail on their answering machine from Ron and Hermione, saying that they would be delighted to take Andressa for however long they were gone, Harry’s heart soared. He had never been to Saint Lucia before, but was determined to make the best of his travel experience. Other than parts of Scotland and a few select places around England, Harry had never been anywhere, and he was delighted to share in the sights with Severus.

The one-bedroom residence at their accommodation had a sliding glass door, in which one could go out and look upon the lovely view; the resort was surrounded completely by crystal blue water, and there was a small pool just outside the door. The bedroom boasted a king-sized, four-poster bed, which Harry couldn’t wait to be fucked on. It was truly the most beautiful place that Harry had ever seen before in his life, and he couldn’t believe how fortunate he was to be sharing it with the love of his life.

“Want to go for a swim?” Severus asked.

Harry grinned, nodding. “Sure.” Immediately, he tore through the rest of the house, which was only a few feet, and opened the sliding glass door, and began stripping off his clothes.

“Harry?”

“Hmmm?” Harry asked, looking over his shoulder at Severus as he grinned, and dropped the polo shirt he had been wearing.

“Your trunks are in your suitcase.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “No need for trunks.”

Severus cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“Really,” Harry said. “Come out here, and I’ll show you.”

Severus stepped forward and into the sunshine, automatically pulling his new pair of sunglasses down over his eyes. “All right, I’m here.”

Harry grinned. “As you can see, there is a particularly high garden wall,” he explained, “plus, this is considered to be private property.”

Severus gave a nod. “Yes.”

“And, if you recall correctly,” he said, toeing off his sandals, which Severus didn’t miss at all, “I seem to remember that we got all of the pamphlets and things about tourist activities and whatnot in the main building.”

Severus crossed his arms. “That’s true.”

“And,” Harry added, stepping forward as he began to slowly unbutton Severus’s shirt, “I may have put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on our front door.”

Severus’s eyes widened. “You didn’t.”

Harry grinned up at him. “Oh, but I did.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “You’re as bad as Moody...”

“Moody, who is Deputy Commissioner of Scotland Yard, whose bravery managed to get your fiancé back to you, not to mention Narcissa’s fiancé now...”

“Yes. Certainly did move fast, didn’t he?”

“Speak for yourself,” Harry replied, getting Severus’s shirt off and running his hands up and down his own fiancé’s hardened and toned stomach.

Severus growled, pushing Harry away from him to take off his shorts and boxers, before kicking off his own shoes and doing away with his own shorts and boxers. He then took Harry by the hand and led him towards the small pool upon the deck, which was cooling to his warm skin. He smirked then as Harry paddled closer to him in the water, and nestled in his arms.

“Are you all right?” he asked him.

“Never better.”

“Hmmm,” Severus allowed.

Harry looked up at him, smiling slowly. “And you? Are you all right?”

“I should think so.”

Harry grinned, cupping Severus’s face in his hands and kissing him. He found it difficult, as time went on, to stop looking at the man. Of course, not many people would find him attractive, but, in Harry’s eye, he was the most gorgeous specimen he’d ever seen. His glossy black hair, captivating black eyes, thin lips, high cheekbones. It hurt him whenever Severus was overly critical of himself, and it was almost as if Severus was faulting him for finding him attractive in the first place.

“Lost again?”

Harry shook his head. “No.”

“Then, what is on your mind?”

Harry smiled, placing his forehead up against Severus’s, and delighting when the man shuddered openly with desire. “Us,” he replied. “You.”

“Oh, yes? What can there possibly be to think about me?”

“A great many things, Severus.”

“Oh?” Severus wanted to know, raising an eyebrow. “Care to share?”

Harry mulled over Severus’s question for a moment, permitting himself to drag the pads of his fingers on the surface of the water. “It’s something, and nothing...”

“Tell me,” Severus said, his arms feeling good around Harry’s waist.

Harry sighed. “I love you.”

Severus smiled at the declaration. “I love you, too, Harry. Always.”

Harry wetted his lips then, and Severus wanting nothing more than to capture that tongue, but knew by now that Harry wanted to say something else, and so he remained silent. “All my life, I wanted to find my home...”

Severus inclined his head. “Oh, yes?”

“Yes,” Harry said softly, pulling himself closer to Severus. “And, for quite a significant period, I thought it could be Wartsmoth, or the Weasley farm, and then with Remus, but...”

“It’s all right, Harry. Tell me.”

“But now, I realize... I realize that my home is wherever you are,” Harry said softly, and raised his eyes to look up at his fiancé.

Severus’s eyes widened. “Do you mean that, Harry?”

Harry nodded. “Every word, Severus. I mean it. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Harry,” Severus replied, tilting the younger man’s chin up and meeting his lips for a moment. “Always,” he whispered, his breath hot, pressing as close to Harry as he could, and slipped his fingers inside of Harry, causing his lover to mewl with pleasure, as he pulled them into deeper water.


	15. Within You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wetted his lips then, and Severus wanting nothing more than to capture that tongue, but knew by now that Harry wanted to say something else, and so he remained silent. “All my life, I wanted to find my home...”
> 
> Severus inclined his head. “Oh, yes?”
> 
> “Yes,” Harry said softly, pulling himself closer to Severus. “And, for quite a significant period, I thought it could be Wartsmoth, or the Weasley farm, and then with Remus, but...”
> 
> “It’s all right, Harry. Tell me.”
> 
> “But now, I realize... I realize that my home is wherever you are,” Harry said softly, and raised his eyes to look up at his fiancé.
> 
> Severus’s eyes widened. “Do you mean that, Harry?”
> 
> Harry nodded. “Every word, Severus. I mean it. I love you.”
> 
> “I love you, too, Harry,” Severus replied, tilting the younger man’s chin up and meeting his lips for a moment. “Always,” he whispered, his breath hot, pressing as close to Harry as he could, and slipped his fingers inside of Harry, causing his lover to mewl with pleasure, as he pulled them into deeper water.

**Epilogue: Fifteen Years Later**

“Remus Edward Potter! I hope you’re getting ready up there!” Harry called out to his oldest, as he dragged a hand down his face.

“Dad, give me a minute, will you?” came the reply, as Remy stuck his black head out from his bedroom door, the irate expression typical of an eleven-year-old boy.

Harry threw up his hands in mock-surrender. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get your knickers in a twist,” he said. “Just, please, be quick. We’re due at the school in less than three hours and you have to be in uniform, and all packed...”

Remy rolled his eyes, hating it when his father was right. “Yes, Dad,” he replied, his tone quite morose as he stomped back into his room, his blue eyes annoyed.

Harry chuckled to himself, wondering if he’d ever been that difficult as he walked down the hallway towards the kitchen.

“Dad, I’m coming!” came a shout from the direction he walked, and the brown-haired head of his youngest son, Jamie Severus, bounded into the hallway.

Harry grabbed ahold of him to prevent potential smashing and shook his head at his son’s reckless behavior. “And where do you think you’re going, young man?”

Jamie looked up at Harry and grinned; his eyes were the same green as Harry’s. “Well, Papa said I had to make sure all my things were packed accordingly,” the nine-year-old said, itching to get out of his father’s arms.

Harry smiled indulgently down at him; as the years had gone by, Wartsmoth Academy had extended so as to accommodate a primary school as well, meaning that children as young as four and five could attend. “All right. Go ahead,” he said, squeezing his son to him for a moment before he ran off. Shaking his head, Harry continued to the kitchen, and grinned, standing in the doorway and watching his husband of nearly six months dancing around their kitchen with their youngest child and only daughter, Lily, in his arms.

“Head in the clouds, go not weight on my shoulders!” Lily sang.

Severus grinned down at her. “I should be wiser, and realize that I’ve got...”

“One less problem without ya,” Harry said, and Severus flushed, immediately moving to put Lily down, who promptly ran up to Harry.

“Papa has such a _lovely_ voice!” she gushed, and Harry bent down to pick her up.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lily Amelia...”

“Oh, don’t bring Auntie Amelia into this,” Lily said in a scolding tone.

Harry chuckled, watching as Severus turned around and began cooking the sausages, eggs, potatoes, and crepes to be served with a choice of jam or Nutella. “Well now, Miss Lily, I take it that because you’re all perfect in your uniform that you’re all packed?”

“Since last night,” Lily informed him proudly, bouncing out of Harry’s arms and moving to take her seat at the circular breakfast table. “Papa...”

“Yes, sweetheart?” Severus asked, adding crepe batter to the pan.

“You will be giving me and the boys special treatment, won’t you?”

Harry chuckled, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Ah,” he said softly to himself, and moved to answer it.

“Work again?”

Harry shook his head at Severus. “Not the hospital this time,” he replied, putting the phone to his ear with a grin. “Hey, Ron,” he said, and walked outside.

“Hey, mate. We’re on our way.”

Harry chuckled. “Lucky you managed to find some vacation time and ‘Mione got a moment in between cases,” he replied. “How are the kids?”

Ron muttered something under his breath. “Rose at least has her nose in a book,” he said softly in a moment of relief.

“Yeah? What’s she reading?”

“_Harry Lancaster and the Final Secret_,” Ron told him.

“Blimey, that’s the last book, isn’t it?”

“Theoretically, yes,” Ron said. “Trouble is, Charlie’s in talks with West End to put on a sequel in play form in the next two years or so...”

“What’s Hugo doing?” Harry asked.

“Playing with that iPad that ‘Mione got for him,” he muttered. “I know, ‘Mione, but he’s not using it for his homework!” Ron told his wife.

“Honestly, Ronald,” Harry heard on the other end of the phone.

“Who else are we expecting?” Ron asked a moment later.

Harry clicked his tongue. “You know who’s coming.”

“Yeah... Tell me again,” Ron pressed.

“Rolf and Luna are coming with Lorcan and Lysander,” Harry informed him patiently, thanking heaven that Luna could temporarily put a pin in her conservation work, and Rolf could also take a vacation from Scotland Yard. “Draco and Neville are bringing Scorpius and Alice,” he went on, relieved about Draco being the CEO, so that he could have time off whenever he liked, and Neville needed to come down anyhow, due to him being the Assistant Horticulture Professor at Wartsmoth now. “And your little sister and our friend Dean are coming with Pandora, Henrietta, and Fred,” he concluded, pleased that it was the off-season for football, in Ginny’s case, and that Dean could take his accounting work with him anywhere.

“_Don’t_ tell me that Pansy and Blaise will be there with Arabella and Francis,” Ron bemoaned, mentioning the twins belonging to the pair, who seemed to be ‘the epitome of perfect in all the wrong ways’, according to Rose and Lily.

“I haven’t invited them, nor has Severus,” Harry told Ron patiently. “And Draco, Neville, Ginny, and Dean are well-aware of the rule not to invite people over to another person’s house without their permission. So, unless you and Hermione...”

“You take that back, Harry Potter!” Hermione yelled in the background.

“Remus and Dora coming with Teddy?” Ron wanted to know.

“They’ll stop by,” Harry said with a light chuckle. “Don’t forget about Andi and Lucy,” he said quickly, mentioning his surrogate parents’ two daughters, who were ten and six respectively. “I mean, I know we’ve known Teddy longer, but still...”

“Honestly, Ronald, who forgets to whole children?” Hermione scolded.

Ron muttered something to his wife. “You going to be all right until we get there?”

Harry turned around then, watching as Remy and Jamie trooped into the kitchen, and Severus proceeded to put the breakfast onto plates and serve them. “Yes, Ron. I think we’ll all be all right here.”

“All right, Harry,” Ron said. “We’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, returning into the house, the house that he had bought for Severus over fifteen years ago, just to show him how much he was invested in their relationship. They were younger then, and without such things as children tying them down, and only had Andressa between them, who had passed away almost two years ago, due to old age. He sat down at the table, rewarding Severus with a kiss for cooking breakfast, and pulled the man into his own seat. “The washing can wait, love,” he said gently.

Severus rolled his eyes, but allowed himself to be persuaded into his customary seat. “And, to answer your question, Lily, no. No special treatment.”

“But you’re headmaster now, Papa,” Remy said with a mouthful of eggs, which caused Severus to grimace at him.

“That one’s your son,” he muttered to Harry.

Harry swatted him gently on the arm. “Teaching moment, Severus,” he said, and turned back to regard Remy. “Mouth closed, son,” he told him gently. “And as for the whole ‘special treatment’ thing, if Severus gave special treatment to you, or Jamie, or Lily, or to any one of our nieces and nephews... That’s quite a bit of the student body,” he explained. “Other students would be upset by this.”

“Scorpius wouldn’t!” Jamie said, jumping in. “He’s my best mate!”

Harry smiled indulgently at his son, the only one to inherit both his and his mother’s eyes. “Well, that may be so, my boy, but that’s because he’s our nephew.”

“Dad, how come Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione, Uncle Draco, Uncle Neville, Aunt Ginny, Uncle Dean, Aunt Luna, Uncle Rolf, Aunt Amelia, and Aunt Rosmerta aren’t actually related to any of us?” Lily asked, with the precocious innocence that could only belong to a child.

Severus sighed. “Lily, maybe you shouldn’t...”

“No, that’s all right, Severus,” Harry said, squeezing his husband’s hand and turning to Lily with a questioning expression. “Why do you think they’re not related to us?”

Lily leaned back in her chair, her plate of breakfast forgotten, as she twisted a lock of black hair around her finger, which she had inherited from her birth mother, Katie Bell, who had acted as a surrogate and a donor for all three children. “Well, because we don’t look like them,” she said quietly. “We talk about how people look like people within families. I have brown eyes, like Miss Katie, and we all have black hair like her, too...”

“Sweetheart, we talked to you about how we asked Katie for help, so that we could have all of you, remember?” Severus asked his daughter.

Lily nodded. “Yes, I remember.”

“And if it weren’t for her generosity, none of you might be here right now, but I’m so glad that that isn’t the case,” Harry said, smiling warmly at all of his children. “But, love, the fact remains that, other than the two of you, plus the Dreadful Dursleys...”

“Who are rotting in prison where they belong!” Remy put in, mouth full of toast.

Severus shot his son a look, and Remy swallowed quickly, looking chastened.

“...yes, thank you, Remy,” Harry said, turning back to Lily, “I don’t have anyone else who is related to me by blood.”

“Why?” Lily pressed.

“Yeah, why is that, Dad?” Jamie wanted to know, looking inquisitive.

“Well, because there was a bad man, who took my family away,” Harry said softly, as Severus squeezed his knee beneath the table.

“Took ‘em away?” Remy asked, having the sense not to chew with his mouth full again, and Severus raised his eyebrows.

“Complete words, please, Remus,” Severus said pointedly.

“That’s right, Remy,” Harry replied, ignoring Severus’s comment. “He broke into our house one night when I was almost two-years-old, and he hurt them, to the point where they were no longer alive,” he told them, his voice gentle. “As a result, I had to go and live with the Dreadful Dursleys until Grandpa Remus took me in, and only then was I safe.”

“You weren’t safe?” Jamie asked, speaking up.

Harry shook his head. “No. You see, sometimes there are people out there, who think that hurting others is okay. Be it yelling at them, calling them names, or, in extreme cases, hitting them, or hurting them in other ways.”

“What other ways, Dad?” Lily wanted to know.

“Well, sweetheart, do you remember the discussion we had about areas that are all right to touch, and areas that aren’t?” Severus questioned his daughter.

Lily nodded. “Yes, Papa.”

“Well, sometimes people don’t care much for the rules,” Harry explained. “They do it to hurt people, and to tell them, ‘Hey, I’ve got more rights than you do, and no matter what you do, I’m always going to be better than you’.”

“That’s not very nice,” Remy said softly.

“No, it isn’t,” Severus agreed. “Which is why sometimes Dad needs some time to be by himself, because he’s reflecting on the past. There’s nothing wrong with doing that, and, the point is, if he’s feeling sad about something, he lets us know. Quite frequently, he’s thinking about the past, but he didn’t want to tell you right away, because it was so sad.”

Lily got up from the table then, staring up at her father with her intelligent brown eyes. “Are you all right now, Dad?” she asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

Harry looked down at his daughter, seeing all the warmth and love in her expression, and he nodded at her, face breaking into a smile as he pulled her up and onto his lap. “I’ll always be all right, Lily,” he told her, “because I’ve got all of you here. You’re within me, and I’m within all of you. Because of that, I’m happy.”

Lily snuggled closer to her father. “Good, because daddies are supposed to be happy. And I hope those people who hurt you and made you sad understand that what they did was wrong, because it’s never all right to do that to someone, even if you really, really don’t like them.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “And what should you do in that situation, Lily?”

Lily turned and regarded Severus. “Try to empathize with them, Papa,” she said quietly. “Maybe it’s not even you at all. Maybe it’s something in their mind that they just can’t shake. But, I don’t really know all that much. I’m just a kid,” she said with a shrug.

“Yeah, our kid,” Harry said, holding her close as Severus leaned forward, and kissed his husband in their kitchen, in their house, surrounded by their children and, at this moment, both of them realized that they had overcome advisory through empathizing, and it was through their daughter’s words that they realized that such a beautiful thing had come to pass because of such a typically simple thing, that not everybody could appreciate, understand, or accomplish, but, in the end, both of them had, and it was because of that that they had achieved their dreams of love, a family, and, most importantly, a home, within the other.

THE END


End file.
